


The Goalkeeper

by Rei_Rei (anti60ne)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti60ne/pseuds/Rei_Rei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Infinite choices await Luhan, a Chelsea striker, as he makes the life-changing decision of transferring to Manchester United.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> started: June 2013

“We only got less than 15 min-” Jongin begins, but shuts up involuntarily when a pair of impatient lips ambushes his mouth. Their lips quickly mesh together, tongues intertwining in a rushed desperation. When Luhan pulls away merely seconds later, Jongin is already out of breath. He has that kind of effect on him. Every single time.

“That’s plenty of time,” Luhan mumbles as he wastes no time, yanking down Jongin’s shorts along with his boxer briefs as he drops onto his knees. His fingers are already wrapped around the half-harden cock, stroking furiously. Jongin hisses in pleasure at the familiar feeling of those deft fingers. Just as Luhan is about to take the full erection into his mouth, a phone rings. The monotonous ringtone suddenly becomes an annoying cockblock.

Luhan groans in frustration as Jongin shuffles to the bench, one hand reaching for his phone and the other pulling up his shorts.

“Yeah?” It was Baekhyun, their fellow teammate.

“Where the fuck are you? We’re supposed to take a group photo before the press con, did you forget?”

 _Oh shit_ , Jongin curses in his head. He did forget, and apparently so did Luhan.

Baekhyun continues yapping, “Get your ass over here right now, and Luhan’s too, ‘cuz Suho’s nostrils are flaring and that’s not something you see everyday.” He hangs up without another word.

Jongin wonders how his teammate knew Luhan was with him. But then again, it’s not a secret that they’re together. They didn’t exactly make an official announcement, but within one or two weeks after they started seeing each other, everyone on the team knew, most likely because they just couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Suho expressed his concerns at first; he was worried that dating a fellow teammate would be a distraction to either of them, which, with both of them being the acecards of Chelsea, would make the whole team suffer. But it turned out just the opposite. Their chemistry on the pitch only intensified, if anything, which improved the overall teamwork. It also helped that they would voluntarily hold private practice sessions just between the two of them, with their own private reward for each other ensuing shortly after.

The locker room sessions used to be their own little dirty secret. Fucking each other on top of the bench, against the metal lockers, in the open shower, and the thrill of having their own teammates (and worse even, their manager) walk in on them has brought them so much closer. At least in the first few months. Even though they’re still going strong after a year, the increasing frequency of quarrels over the past months have undoubtedly affected their intimacy. Their arguments are usually over Luhan’s career ambitions, to which Jongin adamantly and persistently refuses to lend support because it has to do with their rival team, Manchester United. For unknown reasons, Luhan hasn’t brought up the topic for weeks, and Jongin just assumes (and hopes) that it’s because he has given up on the idea.

So it seems like things between them have finally returned to normalcy. As in the state before Luhan began considering changing teams.

“There’s the group photo. We gotta go now.” Jongin pulls open his locker and puts his phone on the top shelf. He checks himself out in the small mirror attached to the inside of the locker door, brushing through his hair matted by the sweat just now.

Luhan rolls his eyes and swears. “I totally forgot. Sorry.” He gives a peck on Jongin’s still flushed cheek. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Luhan breathes into his ear, sending chills down his spine. Jongin is a little taken aback by Luhan’s sudden over-display of affection and taking of initiative lately, but shrugs it off.

They jog out of the locker room and down the hallway to the conference room, where everyone else is already waiting, their teammates have already positioned themselves before the podium for photo-taking. They are met by Suho’s displeasing glare and quickly arrange themselves in the formation. After a number of group photos are taken, 6 of them, including Suho, step onto the podium and slide into the designated seats. They begin reviewing the script prepared for them on the table while reporters and photographers pile into the room one after another. In a few minutes, the room fills up, the door closes, and the press con begins.

This press con is mainly for Chelsea to make an official statement and address any questions regarding the upcoming UEFA Champions League, which is scheduled to begin a month from now. This match is highly anticipated because of the growing rivalry between Chelsea and Manchester United over the past year, and the press con is actually held per request of an overwhelming number of sports media as well as general domestic media.

Suho begins by welcoming the reporters present and a few lines of well-rehearsed statements about how much they are looking forward to the match and how they will be entering intense training to ensure they are in their best condition for the match. After Suho finishes, he opens it up for Q&A, secretly hoping that there won’t be any thorny questions, that is, questions about the players’ personal lives.

“Mr. Kim Jongdae,” a reporter calls out, to the player’s surprise. “There was a tabloid article on you and an unidentified date a week ago, could you say something about that?”

 _Not this again_.... Jongdae groans inside. He can feel Suho panicking two seats away.

As Jongdae stiffly launches into yet another polite refusal of providing comments that unfortunately doesn’t satisfy the gossip-hungry reporters, Jongin suddenly feels a hand on his thigh, creeping in the direction of his crotch.

He almost lets out a gasp as his widened eyes jerk to the person next to him. _What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!_ his eyes admonish his daredevil boyfriend.

 _Making it up to you, duh_ , replies Luhan’s mischievous eyes, his lips slightly upturned in an obnoxious smile. Jongin wants to slap that smirk off his face, but cannot for obvious reasons. Luhan’s fingertips reach the bulge under the fabric that hasn’t yet subsided from their interrupted locker room session. He begins to trace the outline of the growing hardness, teasing Jongin painfully. Jongin bites his lower lip as his lower half heats up rapidly, the painful throbbing almost making him nauseous. He’s about to withdraw his folded hands over the table and bat the cheeky hand away when Luhan slides over a piece of paper. On it writes “If you move now, they’ll only get suspicious”. Jongin swears silently. Luhan’s right. Any sudden movement is susceptible to scrutiny when there are tens of cameras focused on you.

Jongin takes a deep breath and tries to steady his breathing, which is becoming increasingly ragged as Luhan’s hand envelops his cock and begins stroking at a pace painstakingly slow. Jongin thinks he’s going to pass out right over the table. He clutches his fingers until his knuckles are turning white. He tries to distract himself by turning his ears to what Chanyeol is saying, but his mind refuses to register a single word that is coming out of that giant’s mouth. _Mouth_... his thought wanders, _Luhan’s mouth... on my-_ he almost begins shaking his head furiously to stop the train of unwanted thought. Not that he doesn’t like fantasizing his boyfriend sucking him dry, but this mental image is not welcomed right now when he is in fucking public.

He wishes Luhan would stop, but then he doesn’t.

Luhan’s hand is moving more rapidly now, his palm adding the right amount of pressure on the throbbing veins. Jongin can feel his stomach doing turns as he breaks into profuse cold sweats. His hands are now gripping each other so hard that it seems as if he’s trying to squeeze an orange dry between his palms. He clenches down on his teeth and forces his eyes open as he comes into Luhan’s hand in short spurts.

Jongin suddenly feels drained.

He lazily turns his eyes to Luhan, whose smiling eyes seem to say, _You’re welcome_.

 _You’re gonna get it bad when we get home tonight_ , Jongin shoots daggers as vehemently as he can manage in his current state.

“Mr. Luhan! Is it true that you will be changing over to Manchester United?” The question pulls both of them out of their eye-talk. Luhan hesitates for a beat before leaning forward to speak into the mic.

“No, that’s just a rumor,” he replies calmly.

Jongin studies him, and slightly frowns. Maybe it’s the nearly imperceptible quiver in his lips when he denies it, or maybe it’s the shadow cast over his eyes even after the reporter moves on to the next question, something tells Jongin that there’s something Luhan is not telling him.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When the press con is over, the team shuffles toward the locker room to prep for a group training session, which Doojoon, their coach, and Suho have mentioned in the morning. A month may be a while for other people, but not for them. As one of the most competitive clubs in the League, even if they could train and practice for 24 hours a day, they probably would still think it’s not enough.  
  
As they jog out to the pitch one after another, they automatically group into a two-row formation with unspoken understanding, Kris, the captain, and Kyungsoo, the left-winger and also the fastest runner on the team, are at the front of the lines leading the jog. They huff into the brisk air of November, biting wind brushing against their cheeks and bared calves.  
  
Jongin can’t stop himself from pondering why Luhan looked the way he did after answering that question about changing teams. Something’s off, he can feel it. He furrows his brows as he tries to concentrate on the jogging, even on the bitter cold.  
  
“Yo, Jongdae, when are you gonna tell us about her?” Chanyeol suddenly asks his teammate who is jogging next to him.  
  
Jongdae almost stumbles and trips over Baekhyun’s feet in front of him. He fakes a few coughs as he tries to steady himself, physically and mentally.  
  
“Uhm, uh, her? Who? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jongdae’s heart races as he resumes his steps in line with the formation, looking ahead and trying to ignore the giant.  
  
“Aww c’mon, you know what I mean. The person paparazzi caught you on a date with.” Chanyeol playfully elbowed Jongdae in the arm, wiggling his eyebrows.  
  
Jongdae’s eyes involuntarily flickered to Suho, who is standing by the right bounds, talking to Doojoon. When he realizes what he just did, he mentally slaps himself, hoping that Chanyeol was too dumb to notice.  
  
“Uhh...” Jongdae knows he has to come up with something, or Chanyeol is going to bug him about it until Jongdae loses his mind and chews his jersey apart. He heaves a sigh. “Fine, fine. She’s just some girl I met through a friend. The date didn’t work out so I probably won’t be seeing her again.” Jongdae quickly fibs. Better to make up some imaginary female companion than have Suho shove something up his ass that isn’t a body part of Suho’s.  
  
“Through a friend? Which friend?” Sehun pipes up behind them out of nowhere, startling Jongdae. “As far as I know, your only friends are us, and no,” Sehun adds as Jongdae begins to protest, “your weird-ass hippy neighbors don’t count. They probably run a brothel, by the way.” Jongdae whips around and narrows his eyes at the midfielder, who sticks his tongue at Jongdae. _At least they’ve never complained when Suho and I--_  Jongdae thinks bitterly when his train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a whistle.  
  
“Alright guys,” Doojoon blows the whistle twice, signaling the players to gather around the center line. “Time to stretch.”  
  
After stretching for a good 10 minutes, they break up into smaller groups to do various drills. Jongin, as the goalkeeper, has his separate goalie drills, with which Doojoon acts as his partner. After some warm-up’s, Doojoon starts him on the seated save drill, and gradually notices that Jongin is not himself today. It’s not that he’s allowing Doojoon to score, he still saves, but his movements are visibly sluggish instead of his usual swiftness. After a few sets, Doojoon puts down the ball after Jongin launches the ball back to him. Even his tosses are weaker than normal. Doojoon frowns. He approaches the goalie.  
  
“Jongin, what’s going on? You’re not focused right now.” Doojoon is strict, which is part of the reason why Chelsea is unstoppable, but he’s not ruthless, and he knows how to look after his players. He can tell something’s troubling Jongin, and something big, because Jongin doesn’t usually--rarely ever, actually--loses focus.  
  
Jongin gulps nervously. He was hoping Doojoon wouldn’t catch on, and he’s been trying his best to attend to the drills, but as their coach for the past 3 years, nothing gets past Doojoon when it comes to the way his players move.  
  
“Nothing. I’m just a little tired.”  _It’s not completely a lie_ , Jongin tries to console himself. He begins to feel squeamish under the intense and incredulous gaze of his coach when Doojoon finally breaks away, exhaling in defeat.  
  
“You don’t want to tell me, fine. Just... try to pull yourself together, alright?” Doojoon gives his player a few solid pats on the back before walking away. Jongin slumps down to the grass and sighs guiltily.  
  
He needs to talk to Luhan. Even if it turns out to be nothing, it’ll at least put his mind at ease, which is important for him both off and on the pitch. He feels slightly more energetic now that he’s made the decision. He breathes in deeply and hauls himself back up, then jogs toward the others to join in the footwork drills.  
  
When Doojoon blows the whistle again signaling the end of the training session, it is 3 hours later, and everyone is in desperate need of a shower and a massive amount of food. Jongin huffs in relief that he can finally go home and talk to Luhan and sort things out when Doojoon calls for both of them. They cast each other a quick, confused look before jogging to their coach.  
  
“I know you guys are tired, but Luhan, I want you to help Jongin with some agility drills. Doesn’t have to be long, maybe 20 to 30 minutes?” Doojoon looks at Luhan expectantly. Luhan nods, while Jongin looks down in dismay and groans inside. He should’ve known that Doojoon wouldn’t let him off that easily after his fluke earlier today.  
  
“Luhan, you know what to do, yes?” Doojoon asks before he picks up his own duffel bag. They’ve held one-to-one practices before, which Doojoon is well aware of. He just wants to make sure that Luhan takes it seriously, rather than laxing because Jongin is his boyfriend.  
  
“Yeah.” Luhan reassures his coach and watches him stroll off the pitch. He turns to Jongin, “What did you today that warrants an one-on-one?” Luhan teases as he nudges the other in the ribs. Jongin ignores him as he kicks up a ball and catches it.  
  
“Let’s just get this over with.”  
  
Usually, their one-on-one’s consist of Luhan striking from random starting points, sometimes mixed in with a little jogging and sprinting as he switches from one point to another, Jongin saves, and then launches the ball back to Luhan. Luhan can take all the time he wants between each kick, which is intended to throw Jongin off and thus trains his agility and alertness.  
  
As Luhan pushes the ball with his foot around trying to decide on his shots, Jongin surprises himself when he realizes that his two index fingers are pressing against his temples. He has to will himself to focus when he’s practicing with Luhan. This has never happened before.  
  
This realization seems to act as a self-fulfilling prophecy as Luhan launches a variety of familiar kicks and Jongin finds himself having a little trouble keeping up. Seeing Luhan a few feet before him seems to reinforce the unidentified idea that has been bothering him all throughout practice.  
  
He misses a shot.  
  
Jongin doesn’t seem to realize what just happened as he blinks several times, lying on his outstretched left arm. He slowly raises his head and looks behind him. The ball is in the net. He shuts his eyes tight and turns onto his back, the grass still damp from the morning snow shower instantly chilling him to the bone.  
  
 _That wasn’t supposed to happen_ , Jongin thinks vehemently, extremely angry with himself.  
  
Luhan is shocked, gaping. Jongin has never,  _ever_ , allowed Luhan to score. He rushes over to Jongin’s prostrate body.  
  
“Hey, are you okay?? Are you sick?” Luhan asks frantically as he lays one hand on Jongin’s forehead and then cups his face. Jongin flutters open his eyes, staring into eyes full of worry.  _This is probably a good time.._. Jongin decides.  
  
“No. It’s just you.” Jongin replies. He catches a flicker of surprise--and oddly, guilty--in Luhan’s eyes.  
  
“Me? What do you mean?”  
  
Jongin waits a beat. “United... you still want to switch over, don’t you?”  
  
Luhan freezes. Then he hesitates for a moment, long enough for Jongin to know the answer. But Jongin didn’t expect to hear what comes out of Luhan’s mouth next.  
  
“I don’t want to lie to you, Jongin.” Luhan shifts his eyes away as he tips back and sits on the grass.  
  
Jongin sits up and clutches Luhan’s shoulders, turning Luhan to face him. Jongin bores his eyes into Luhan’s, which speak dread, and too much guilt.  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“.........” Luhan finds his throat closed up. He wants to just come out and say it, get it over with, and maybe Jongin wouldn’t be as mad as Luhan thought he’d be. But he can’t. Not with Jongin already breaking him with his anxious gaze, expecting an answer that Luhan doesn’t have.  
  
“I... Let’s talk about this another time. I’m tired. I wanna go back and shower.” Luhan pushes himself off the ground as he stands to his feet. He curses at himself for being so avoidant and cowardly.  _Maybe... it’s just not the right time to tell him yet,_  Luhan tries to convince himself.  
  
Watching Luhan’s retreating back, Jongin’s heart begins to ache. Suddenly, anger surges up within him and he swings his leg, sending the ball into Luhan’s ass. Luhan almost falls over from the unforeseen attack and whips around with widened eyes.  
  
“What the FUCK was that for?!!” Luhan yells across the pitch, visibly irked as he rubs his ass.  
  
“For hiding something from me!!” Jongin shouts back as he stomps toward Luhan. He knows he’s being childish right now, but he needs to pry it out of Luhan, and this is the last resort he could think of in his already cluttered state of mind.  
  
Luhan glares at Jongin, who waits for at least another retort if not a punch, but Luhan chooses to turn on his wheels and walk away.  
  
Being turned a back on the first time may be a joke, but it starts to hurt the second time.  
  
“If you love United so much, why don’t you just go? Why bother staying on Chelsea? It can’t be me, right? Since you DON’T EVEN FUCKING BOTHER TO TALK TO ME!” Words are flying out of Jongin’s mouth, skipping his consciousness and before he realizes, Luhan is before him, gripping his jersey by the collar.  
  
“Kim Jongin, do you even realize what you’re saying right now?” Luhan growls in a low voice, his eyes blazing in surprised rage.  
  
Jongin holds Luhan’s gaze. “I can’t be with someone who won’t be honest with me, even when I’m begging them to.” It’s not until the words take their form along with Jongin’s breaths in the frigid air does he realize, with heavy regret, that that wasn’t what he wanted to say. It’s not even true. Jongin starts to panic when he watches Luhan become stunned, his eyes plunging into infinite disappointment. Luhan loosens his grasp on Jongin, his hands falling lifelessly to his sides as he lowers his head. Jongin is about to pull Luhan into his arms and utter an apology when Luhan speaks.  
  
“I  _am_ transferring to United. I signed the contract last week.”  
  
Jongin feels like his heart has stopped. He thinks maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe he’s lost it because he’s been dreading this for months, and dreaming about it and waking up in cold sweats in the middle of night over it.  
  
But when Luhan raises his head and his eyes brimming with tears, Jongin knows that it’s not just in his head. It’s really happening. Luhan is changing teams. Luhan is leaving Chelsea. _Luhan is leaving him._


	3. Chapter 3

 

Jongin’s mind draws a complete blank. He wants to scream and sob and punch and kick and claw at Luhan, but his body refuses to move as if his entire system has shut down.

“I’m sorry...” Luhan adds a futile apology, his hands finding their way to Jongin’s cheeks, which are wet. Jongin doesn’t even realize he’s crying.

“... when were you going to tell me?” Jongin croaks. He feels his chest constrict, his entirety becoming smaller.

“In a few days. I wanted to wait until the contract terms are finalized, but --” Luhan stops prematurely as he receives an unforeseen blow scraping his right jaw. He hisses in pain and lands on the ground, holding his now burning jaw, his eyes widened in shock.

“I HATE YOU.” Jongin barks. Then he heads toward the locker room, stomping right past the man on the ground gaping up at him in bewildered disbelief.

Jongin is gripped by immediate regret the second those three words--which he had never uttered at Luhan--stumbles past his lips, but his pride tows him along and denies him the ability to pause. He marches into the locker room, finding it empty. Everyone else must have already cleaned themselves up and gone home to their normal lives. Normalcy, Jongin muses bitterly, seems so unattainable right now. Maybe this is just a nightmare and he’ll wake up to a semblance to normalcy after a smashingly cold shower.

He’s in denial and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to--and cannot--deal with Luhan and his bullshit right now.

Jongin quickly peels every piece of the sweat-soaked clothing off of his body, boiling from both the physical strain and emotional turmoil. He stands under the showerhead and turns the water all the way to a temperature that rivals the one outside. He shudders upon the sudden flood of biting cold, but ignores his nerves prickling in hypothermic sensations. He makes no movements to wash himself; instead, he is motionless, his eyes shut, letting the water to wash his ache and anger and anguish away and flush everything down the drain.

Tunnel-visioned in his rage, Jongin is completely oblivious to the presence of another figure at the other side of the shower room.  
Kyungsoo had just finished his long, relaxing shower and turned off the water when he hears a haphazard series of stomps resounding through the locker room. He widens his eyes in surprise. He thought he was the only one still sticking around. And then he remembers: Jongin and Luhan had stayed behind. Swearing silently in panic, Kyungsoo hurriedly wraps his lower half with a towel and is about to bolt out when an angrily huffing Jongin emerges in his peripheral vision. He quickly ducks behind a wall, his heart on the verge of jumping out of his chest.

Technically, he can just walk out nonchalantly. The guys shower together a lot, and they’ve already seen what’s there to be seen among each other. It’s really no big deal and Kyungsoo hasn’t a clue why he’s hiding. But he feels an odd sensation pooling in the pit of his stomach. A buck naked Jongin isn’t an unseen sight, but a buck naked and livid Jongin certainly is. Kyungsoo speculates whether he and Luhan had a fight. His train of thought is interrupted by sounds of pounding on the wall. Kyungsoo watches Jongin with the bottom of his fists lingering on the wall before him, his head down, his shoulders trembling. Kyungsoo’s heart gives an unwilling tug.

An improbable thought of stepping forward and comforting Jongin pops into Kyungsoo’s head when another figure appears in his field of vision.

Luhan, still clothed, silently approaches Jongin from behind. He pauses when he’s right behind the unaware Jongin as if afraid to touch the man before him. Kyungsoo senses Luhan’s hesitation and thinks that something is terribly wrong between the two. Then Luhan suddenly embraces Jongin’s wet torso and plants his right cheek on the naked back, sending Jongin into a jolt.

Feeling intrusive, Kyungsoo wants to turn around, but his body adamantly refuses.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I wanted to tell you earlier but.. it’s just too hard. I’m sorry.” Apologies rush out of Luhan’s mouth, and with each word, his grasp around Jongin becoming tighter as Luhan grips his own crossed forearms.

“........” Jongin frowns, still struggling with himself whether to accept Luhan’s apologies. He could never stay mad at Luhan for long, but this time... it’s different.

“I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. But you know better than anyone that this is my dream. I’ve been wanting this since I learned football.”

“And you obviously want it more than something else.” Jongin retorts, whipping around to face Luhan and breaking the older man’s hold. His eyes are blazing with hurt and frustration.

“That is not true!” Luhan heaves a sigh in exasperation. “Why are you so fucking childish?”

Jongin stares at Luhan, stunned. The anger surges back up within him and he clutches Luhan’s jersey by the chest and pivots him around, slamming Luhan on the wall. The water’s still running and is now pouring mercilessly on Luhan, drenching him through the layers of his clothes.

“Me? Childish?” Jongin presses onto Luhan and snarls in a whisper, his bloodshot eyes boring into Luhan’s, drops of ice cold water trickling down their faces that are barely centimeters apart. “I’m just being practical, goddamit.”

“Getting all worked up and not willing to talk it out is not being practical.” Luhan rolls his eyes. As he tries to wring himself out of Jongin’s hold, the friction of Luhan’s shorts elicits a response from Jongin’s already exposed cock, much unsuited to the circumstances. Jongin’s breath hitches in his throat as his body presses hard against his will. He’s supposed to be angry with Luhan, but it’s physically impossible when Luhan is dripping wet, which makes his lips just that much more inviting.

Before he knows it, Jongin finds his own lips clashing with Luhan’s.

“We’re not done yet.” Jongin wills himself to pull away to remind Luhan--or is it himself?--that they shall sit down and have a formal talk about this when neither of them is naked or wet.

Luhan’s lips curve into a smirk as he palms Jongin’s nape and pulls him back in for a savory kiss. Jongin’s hand quickly sneaks under Luhan’s shorts and Luhan draws a sharp breath as Jongin takes hold of the hardening length. Jongin impatiently yanks down the other’s shorts and starts to pump rapidly while his tongue raids the inside of Luhan’s mouth, groans escaping from both of their mouths.

Meanwhile, Kyungsoo wants to kick himself in the shin for being a goddamn voyeur. Yet he’s painfully aware of the fact that upon the sound of Jongin moaning into Luhan’s mouth, his own hand unknowingly travels down south and begins stroking his own rising cock, the loosened towel falling soundlessly and pooling around his feet. He tries to tear his eyes away but fails spectacularly, and in the end he just gives up as the throbbing sensation growing in his cock replaces his rationality.

 _This is so wrong_ , Kyungsoo scolds himself, but still unable to stop his hand from pumping while suppressing his groans into the pit of his guts. _Wait... but I'm supposed to be straight! What the actual fuck.._. Kyungsoo is thrown into a whirl of confusion as his bodily reactions rapidly escalate against his will and everything he's ever know about himself.

An idea suddenly occurs to Jongin and he stops his hand motion, causing Luhan to whimper at the abrupt loss of contact. Luhan gasps as a digit slides into him and a second one quickly ensues, his legs buckling underneath him. The slender fingers begin to twirl around painstakingly slow, sending waves of tingling pleasure through Luhan, who grips Jongin’s muscled shoulders as he hoists his legs up and wraps them around the naked torso. The momentum slams Luhan into the wall and Jongin pressing further into Luhan, their stiff cocks awkwardly hinged between their bodies.

“Jongin...” Luhan grunts as his hard cock painfully rubs against the other, precum already pooling around the tip. “Just give it to me already...”  
Jongin smirks as his fingers continue to tease. “Hmm... I’ll have to think about that.” He’s only beats away from ramming himself into Luhan, but the idea of watching Luhan squirm and beg is satisfying enough to help him hold it in.

Luhan glares at the younger man before something clicks in his head.

“Are you--”

“Yep.”

Luhan scowls, digging his fingers into Jongin’s shoulders. He can’t believe Jongin is teasing him as a payback for earlier today. Whether it’s for the uncalled for handjob during press con, or his decision to transfer, Luhan is not entirely sure. It’s probably both, he concludes in defeat.  
It’s happened before, Jongin using sex as a way to get Luhan to relinquish his pride and act as a submissive whenever they get into a dumb argument and Luhan is obviously in the wrong but refuses to admit it. It had started as some sort of kinky experiment between them after they watched a BDSM porn video together (during which they launched into a debate about who would be dominant), but after a while, it became an unspoken and mutually recognized means for them to settle their petty fights.

“You’re unbelievable... fine. _Please_ fuck me.” Luhan can’t help rolling his eyes as he caves unwillingly.

Jongin chuckles in victory as he shuts off the water. He lifts Luhan’s straddling legs higher before thrusting all the way in, eliciting satisfied groans from the older man.

His thrusts are long, deep, and hard, and every shove slams Luhan’s back into the wall. There is a split second in which Jongin worries about bruising Luhan, but tosses the thought away. Take it as your punishment for hiding things from me, Jongin justifies himself, his gaze locking Luhan’s, his hands gripping the muscular thighs, his cock accurately hitting the prostate every time.

Soon it’s silent save for Jongin’s grunts synchronized with Luhan’s moans and huffing and panting, the air filled with scents of sweat and sex. Luhan lets out a deep cry as he comes over his own clothed stomach, and Jongin shortly follows, filling Luhan with his warmth with a beastly grunt. Luhan drops his shaky legs from Jongin’s hips and slumps to the ground in exhaustion. Jongin sits down beside him and lazily slings an arm over Luhan’s shoulders.

Then he suddenly remembers something and lowers his hand to Luhan’s back. Jongin gently rubs the older man in the shoulder blade.

“Does it hurt? I feel like I’ve bruised you...” says Jongin with concern brimming in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Luhan turns his head and smiles. He leans over and plants a sweet kiss on Jongin’s lips.

“So,” breathes Luhan as he pulls away, his forehead leaning against Jongin’s, “does this mean you forgive me?”

Jongin pouts and turns his face forward. He crosses his arms like a child being asked to share his favorite toy.

But Luhan was right. He is being childish, and a part of him has seen this coming, despite him desperately dreading and wishing against it. He knows how ambitious and competitive Luhan is. It’s not that he dislikes playing for Chelsea; the club has become a family for him over the past two years as much as it has for everyone else. But he’s also extremely obstinate when it comes to pursuing his dream and advancing his football career. Of course, one (but a minor) reason that plays into Luhan’s decision, Jongin speculates, is that his uncle owns a share in United. This connection would give Luhan’s transfer a boost, and he can possibly become the main striker despite transferring from a rival club and being less experienced compared to the existing forwards on United. This means a bigger paycheck, which Jongin knows Luhan will use to bail his cousin out of jail.

Even though Luhan has never mentioned this, he doesn’t need to. Jongin knows him well enough to know that Luhan has always been trying to figure out a way to get his cousin out of jail, even though the topic has never appeared in the same sentence as transferring to United. Luhan’s decision makes sense in every aspect in his personal life, as much as it breaks Jongin.

Jongin releases a reluctant sigh.

“I just wish you would have talked to me about it,” says Jongin with downcast eyes.

“But you never wanted to talk about it whenever I brought it up. And fighting over it every time I did try tired me out, to be honest.” Luhan says in a quiet voice. He knows that he was being avoidant about the issue, but a small part of him was hoping that one day Jongin would miraculously become supportive. How naive he was.

Jongin is silent. He knows that Luhan is right, and he wants to retort so it won’t seem as if he’s losing, but he’s already lost. He lost the moment Luhan signed the contract with United.

“You’ll still see me at home... just not on the pitch,” Luhan adds, as if that’s a perk Jongin should be content with.

Jongin turns to look at Luhan, whose apologetic eyes are overflowed with guilt and promises that Jongin is unsure of, but he decides not to think about that right now. He says not a word as he pulls Luhan into a stifling embrace and buries his head into the older man’s shoulder.  
“We’ll be okay, right?” Jongin mumbles into Luhan’s neck, his voice small and uneasy.

“Yeah. We’ll be okay.” Luhan assures the younger one, stroking the back of his head, despite his own uncertainty. But it has to, they _have_ to be okay.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Kyungsoo has never been so frustrated with himself.

He comes at the same time as Jongin, his eyes trained on Jongin’s face, Jongin biting down on his lower lip and his eyes shut tight as he grunts with the finishing thrust.

Kyungsoo holds his breath until Luhan and Jongin walk out of the shower room, until he hears the sound of their lockers closing, until he’s certain they’re gone, and he’s alone.

Then his legs give out and he slumps to the floor. Kyungsoo stares blankly at the wall before him. When his eyes drift to the white stickiness on his right hand, his face heats up, and Jongin takes form in his mind.

Jongin’s naked, wet body in all its glory.  
Jongin’s half-lidded eyes burning with lust.  
Jongin’s full lips flushed from kissing.  
Jongin.

“Fuck...”

Kyungsoo mutters to no one, his brows furrowed. Jongin is the problem, the source of Kyungsoo’s confusion, the end to his rationality, the root of his innermost secret that has been concealed from even himself.

Until now.

Kyungsoo is straight. He thinks. He’s had plenty of girlfriends before, and even though he’s been busy with practice since joining Chelsea a year ago, he’s gone on a few dates every once in a while. Although he has been hit on by gay men a few times, he’s never dated a guy, or even considered the possibility. He hasn’t even watched gay porn until what he just witnessed with his own eyes. Even from a guy’s perspective, Kyungsoo admits that his teammates are more attractive than the average man, but he’s never found himself attracted to any of them.

Yet, he can’t deny the fact that he’s always had a soft spot for Jongin.

Jongin was his first friend when he joined the club. He was the first person to go up to Kyungsoo and extend a welcoming hand, faint dimples adorning the cheerful grin as he shook Kyungsoo’s hand with too much enthusiasm. As one of the senior players, Jongin generously showed Kyungsoo around the pitch, introducing him to the guys, offering football tips on the pitch and people advice off the pitch, extending invitations to after-practice drinks. Jongin was the one that brought him into the Chelsea family. If not for Jongin, Kyungsoo would have to work twice as harder and with half the probability of success to fit in.

Jongin made everything easier. Jongin made his life easier.

But Kyungsoo has always believed that this feeling of affection, affinity, attachment, whatever it is, falls somewhere along the spectrum of camaraderie, friendship, and gratitude. Certainly no chemicals or neuronal activity or the id are at play. Certainly not.  
Now, sitting on the cold tiles with his thoughts and emotions entangling and unraveling all at once, he feels like he’s coming undone. Everything that he’s known--that he’s sure of--about himself is becoming grey, the concrete facts becoming fuzzy and even hypothetical, like a mad scientist mocking him that his beliefs were merely assumptions without proof. And now he has managed to prove himself wrong.

Kyungsoo does not feel the soreness in his forehead until the knot buried between his brows finally loosens. He heaves a surrendered sigh, hauling his body up and wiping his hand on his fallen towel. He takes another shower, cold, this time.

 _It’ll go away. It has to_ , Kyungsoo consoles himself as he stands underneath the shower head, eyes closed, even though the fragments of Jongin pounding into Luhan continues to flash behind his eyelids.

 

 

❄❄❄

 

 

 

 

“Does anyone else know?”

Luhan is making an omelette--cheese and ham, Jongin’s favorite--when Jongin’s lethargic voice rings up behind him.

“You’re up early.”

Jongin plops down on the kitchen island. It’s the weekend and Jongin usually sleeps in later than Luhan, who’s an early riser. Luhan pours Jongin fresh coffee and sets the mug before the half-asleep man. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

“Answer my question,” yawns Jongin, his eyes droopy.

“Only Suho and Doojoon,” Luhan responds, his back turned to Jongin as he returns to the stove. “That’s kind of a given.”

Jongin is silent for a moment. He wraps his cold hands around the mug and takes a cautious sip of the warm liquid.

“When are you going to tell everyone? Or--are you?”

Luhan waits a few beats before answering, a certain edge in his voice.

“I am. Can we not talk about this right now? It’s too early for this.”

Luhan scoops the omelette out of the pan and onto a plate. He turns around and sets the food in front of Jongin, his eyes irked and weary before they skitter away from Jongin’s inquisitive gaze.

Luhan was wishing Jongin wouldn’t mention his transfer again any time soon, especially not the morning after they had supposedly reconciled following a particularly draining argument. Because it culminated in a happy ending and Jongin had gone to bed with not another word of grumbling, He thought Jongin had finally embarked on the acceptance stage. The unanticipated slew of questions sent dread into the pit of Luhan’s stomach, and he suddenly felt really tired.

Jongin frowns. Ignoring the food despite the protests of his stomach, he wordlessly stares into Luhan’s unreadable eyes, vexed frustration rising in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t want to start another argument. He hates it when he knows Luhan refuses to talk to him, but he hates it even more when they fight.

“Fine.” Fine. Whatever. It’s too early for me too. Jongin concedes softly, reluctance apparent in his voice. He takes another sip of the coffee before pushing himself off the island.

Luhan watches him stroll away, then glances at the untouched plate of food.

“You’re not eating?” he calls after Jongin.

“I’m going back to sleep,” Jongin waves dismissively as he walks into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a disquieting thud.

Luhan looks at the closed door, then looks down at the omelette. He scoffs helplessly, shaking his head. He pours himself another mug of coffee and walks to the living room. He turns on the TV and settles into the couch, switching the channel to a hollywood action movie, something distracting and completely irrelevant to reality.

The food remains on the island and ignored as it grows cold.

 

❄❄❄

 

 

Jongdae has always enjoyed lounging in the sheets and watching Suho get dressed in a sloppy hurry in the morning when he’s rushing to one of his countless meetings. It’s amusing and comforting. Amusing because Suho swearing in the chaos of not finding the other sock of the pair or tripping over his slacks never gets old. And comforting because Suho has stayed until the morning when he doesn’t have to. He never has to, Jongdae never asks him to, and yet he does, anyway. There’s no relaxed breakfast, impromptu morning sex, or time spent wasting the better hours of the day in bed, but Jongdae is content with a morning slash goodbye kiss, as fleeting as it always is.

That’s the way it is when you are secretly dating your own manager, Jongdae has accepted.

However, he’s beginning to suspect that his content is just naive complacency, and maybe, just maybe, he should ask for more.  
In fact, Jongdae has never fully understood why Suho is so opposed to making their relationship public. To the club, that is; Jongdae never expects, and doesn’t even wish for, broadcasting it to the football world. He has, obviously, come to terms with it, but having to tiptoe around his teammates and his family--his entire world, essentially--and perpetually skirting past the topic of relationships has begun to wear him thin, and keeping secrets has become a taxing chore.

It’s become especially difficult over the past month when his closest friend, Kris, has been constantly badgering him about it. This “it” could range from a downright obnoxious “you’ve been sleeping around haven’t you” to a semi-concerned “I hope you’re using protection” to a bizarrely worried ”maybe it’s time you looked for a committed relationship”, none of which Jongdae finds particularly consoling or justified.

Maybe I need to work harder on my facial expression management, Jongdae ponders. He’s not sure where Kris is getting these ideas from, perhaps that alleged after-sex glow, or his stale excuses of “cleaning his apartment” when the guys are all going for a drink after practice, or simply his unusual aloofness when he interacts with Suho with the others around.

Or maybe he’s just getting a little fed up with having to lie to his best friend, who also unfortunately happens to be his captain.

“Hyung...” Jongdae begins tentatively, propping himself on his elbow. Suho slips on his dark grey Armani slacks with superfluous difficulty and grabs his belt.

“Hm?” replies Suho as he buckles the belt and squats down, rummaging through the scattered items on the wooden floor in search of his wrinkled dress shirt.

“Uh...” Suho’s muscular back stretching taut and the curves in his spine mesmerize Jongdae for few seconds before he finds his voice, “after your meeting today, can we talk?”

Suho pauses a beat while he buttons up the shirt. He turns and faces Jongdae.

“.. why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” explains Jongdae quickly, offering a smile, “I just... wanted to talk about something.”

Suho watches Jongdae, a tinge of dread pooling in his guts. He has a pretty good idea about what Jongdae wants to discuss; it isn't the first time, after all. If it was any other time, Suho would rather get it over with now than later, but he really can’t stay.

“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m done,” Suho flashes an assuring smile before gathering his belongings and heading toward the door, his blazer slung over his shoulder.

When the door closes, Jongdae falls onto his back. He stares at the ivory ceiling, his thoughts wandering to the time when he confessed to Suho.

It was in the middle of a stupid, trivial argument. Over what, Jongdae no longer remembers.

_“How could you move my stuff without my permission?!” Jongdae snaps after seeing his locker had been emptied without his knowledge._

“I left a note,” Suho offers futilely, pointing to the sticky note on the locker door.

“IT. DOESN’T. FUCKING. MATTER.” Jongdae growls as he inches forward to his manager, breathing rage onto the other’s face. “Couldn’t you have waited and asked me to clean it out myself??”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big--”

“Well, it is, alright?” Jongdae cuts him off. “Consider yourself lucky,” he mutters as he stomps to his new locker, “because if it was anyone else, I would’ve punched them in the face...”

“What’s that?” Suho asks obliviously, thinking Jongdae was addressing him.

“I SAID I’M LETTING IT GO BECAUSE I FUCKING LIKE YOU.”

The words sprint past Jongdae’s lips before he realizes, and his eyes widen in regretful horror, his hand immediately slapping over the disinhibited mouth. Suho’s eyes mirror Jongdae’s, but filled with bewilderment.

“W-what did you say?”

Jongdae gulps, shrinking under Suho’s confused gaze.

“Nothing, hyung. Just... forget it,” Jongdae mentally kicks himself in the shin and has an irrational urge to stuff his mouth with a sock.

But he’s glad he doesn’t actually stuff his own mouth with a sock, because when he slams his locker door shut, a pair of hot lips ambush his, capturing his mouth in a chaste kiss.

Jongdae is taken aback, his eyes still open wide, but soon closes them as he submits to the kiss, his arms wrapping themselves around Suho’s waist.

He smiles into Suho’s mouth when he muses how those lips are just as warm and soft and sweet as how he had imagined them to be.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

The sky in London is cloudless, the blazing sun deceiving the atmospheric temperature of 8 degrees Celsius. Suho pulls his navy blue wool scarf tighter, tugging it into his trench coat as he pushes through the revolving door and exits the Chelsea FC head office. His stomach growls on the way to the silver Audi, and he realizes it is lunchtime. He gracefully slides into the driver’s seat and keys in, rubbing his ungloved hands furiously. While waiting for the engine to warm up, Suho speed-dials 2 on his phone.

“Hello?” Jongdae answers, his voice airy.

“Hey, I’m done with the meeting. Let’s go grab lunch?”

“Okay.”

“Be there in 15.”

Suho hangs up. Dread begins to settle in the pit of his starved stomach. After Jongdae requested a talk before Suho left his place, he had been so distracted during the meeting that he almost forgot to jot down important details about Luhan’s transfer. Admittedly, Suho had been a little neglectful of Jongdae the past few weeks. There is the UEFA match, which is in less than 3 weeks, and there is Luhan’s transfer to United, which entails signing off on the pre-contract terms, reviewing the official contract, and preparing to register Luhan to the United roster. It’s shitty timing, truthfully, and Suho wishes Luhan didn’t have to transfer almost right after the match, but with Luhan’s Chelsea contract dates and the set transfer window, there is really nothing anyone could do to avoid having both events coincide. So Suho has been spending more time at the office and less near the pitch, and even less with Jongdae. The stress from work has also made him snappy and irritable, and Jongdae is not used to a Suho that isn’t patient and soft-spoken. If Suho had a choice, he probably would prefer not to deal with his personal life before things in his work life are sorted out. But juggling is inevitable in life, and perhaps, it’s time that he learned how to do it properly.

They go to Le Petit Prince, their usual spot when neither of them is too particular about culinary choices. The quaint little cafe is located south of Fulham and away from downtown, so despite it being a Saturday and lunchtime, the place is spared of the usual bustling horde of hungry customers. The perfect place for a quiet afternoon alone with a coffee and a good book, it’s also ideal for a private conversation, especially for public figures.

Jongdae orders for the both of them while Suho is on the phone with a staff. Cheeseburger and fries for himself, smoked salmon club sandwiches for Suho. The server walks away with their orders. Jongdae watches Suho on the phone, his body tilted away from the table. There’s a brusque edge to his voice. He finally hangs up when the food arrives.

“You’re eating that?” Suho’s nose slightly wrinkles when he sees the greasy food on Jongdae’s plate. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way; athletes generally adhere to a strict diet regimen as part of their body conditioning. Jongdae is one of those lucky bastards that don’t gain weight no matter what or how much they ingest, but with the upcoming match, he probably should be a little more conscious of his food choices.

“I’m gonna need it,” says Jongdae quietly as he squeezes a pool of ketchup next to the fries.

It dawns on Suho, again, that Jongdae was planning to talk to him about something. He sighs inwardly.

Suho turns off his cell phone. He watches Jongdae chomp on the burger, his eyes overcast and fixated on the pepper shaker. Suho has lost his appetite.

“So...” Suho begins tentatively. “What did you want to talk about?”

Jongdae pauses. He puts down his half-eaten burger and wipes his mouth with a napkin. He looks thoughtfully down on his hands, as if trying to form his thoughts into strings of coherent words.

“You know how that reporter at the press con asked about that... thing,” says Jongdae, not looking up.

It takes Suho a few seconds before he realizes what Jongdae is referring to. He remains silent, because he doesn’t really know what to say. Jongdae probably expected this, as he continues, though rather reluctantly.

“How long do we have to keep a secret?”

Suho looks into Jongdae’s eyes. They’re pleading him for an answer that differs from the previous ones. _Just a little longer. Just a few more weeks._

Suho has his reasons, of course. As the general club manager, the news of him dating a player under his wings would undoubtedly tarnish the club’s name and image. Though the saying goes that bad publicity is still publicity, the repercussions can still be massively detrimental. Especially to Jongdae, who may not be able to continue playing, either for Chelsea or any other club in the League. Of course, he’s been contemplating a way to remedy, or at least alleviate, the potential consequences. He has a plan, or a blueprint of a plan, sort of.

Jongdae has always believed that Suho’s insistence on the anonymity of their relationship was to protect his own career, his own reputation as a star manager, himself. Little does Jongdae know that Suho is doing it to protect him. Suho doesn’t tell him this, for reasons unbeknownst to himself.

Maybe he’s afraid to show Jongdae just how much he really cares.

One step forward and make it public, it’s over. One step backward and keep it underground, the rift between them continuously widens. This tug-of-war is more taxing on Suho, who’s older in age, superior in work, and kinder in the way he loves.

Is there such a thing as the right thing to do, Suho wonders helplessly. He swallows the desperation rising in the back of his throat.

“Just until the match is over.”

It’s the only excuse Suho can come up with, possibly the last one that Jongdae could accept. After that... Suho doesn’t want to think about the after.

Jongdae doesn’t say a word. He bites on his lower lip, disappointment shadowing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The barely audible apology pushes its way through the frigid silence, but not reaching the person it’s intended for.

Suho shuts his eyes tight and remains motionless when Jongdae shoots up and bolts out the cafe.

When Suho pulls himself together and runs outside, Jongdae is nowhere to be seen.

Suho takes a deep breath, the cold air rushing down his airway.

“Goddammit,” he mutters as he jumps into the Audi.

5 minutes later, Suho stands in front of Jongdae’s apartment, fidgeting the keys in his trembling hands. When he finally manages to open the door and hurries inside, he finds the place empty.

Suho heaves a sigh and decides to wait. Jongdae has to come home at some point. He slumps down on the unmade bed with remnants of their scent and temperature.

The apartment is excruciatingly bare save for the essential furniture and a framed picture of Jongdae and Suho. Even the fridge only contains a few bottles of water, Gatorade, and beers. Jongdae is a minimalist, and though Suho appreciates a fully equipped decor, he’s grown used to the simplicity of this place. When Jongdae found this apartment, he didn’t plan for it to be more than a shelter, a place for him to sleep and shower. This was before he started seeing Suho. After Suho started making regular visits, Jongdae somehow felt the need to brighten up the place, perhaps to subconsciously mirror the colors that Suho brought with him. But Jongdae quickly realized that it wasn’t necessary. Suho himself was enough to paint over the monochrome backdrop in Jongdae’s life.

The apartment door creaks open after a short while. Jongdae’s eyes light up in bewildered surprise when he spots Suho sitting on his bed, but they become dim in a flash.

“Jongdae...” Suho gets up and drags his weary feet toward the younger man.

“Could you leave? I need to be alone right now,” mumbles Jongdae as he avoids Suho’s gaze.

“No.”

The blunt refusal stuns Jongdae for a second. He blinks as Suho pulls him into a suffocating embrace.

“You need to trust me, Jongdae,” Suho’s eyes sting as he croaks into Jongdae’s ear, his arms interlocked behind the younger man’s nape. “I have my reasons, and I need you to trust me.”

Jongdae’s guard somehow shatters and, despite himself, tears find their way down his cheek. I’m tired, Jongdae screams inside, I’m so fucking tired of waiting.

As if something tells him that the man in his arms is crying, Suho pulls back and looks at Jongdae, who is biting on his lower lip furiously, his large eyes brimming.

“I’m just so tired, hyung.” Jongdae looks at Suho with despair filling his eyes. Suho feels like his heart just took a punch.

“I know, baby,” Suho coos, his hands cupping Jongdae’s face. “I know.” I’m tired too.

Suho leans in and kisses Jongdae softly on the cheek, replacing the tear stains with pecks of tenderness. The kisses slowly trail down to Jongdae’s lips and Suho nibbles on them, his tongue slickly tracing over, eliciting a moan from the younger man. Jongdae puts his palms on Suho’s chest, his fingers curling, clutching, crinkling the man’s perfectly ironed button-down.

“Stop... you’re ruining my shirt,” breathes Suho into Jongdae’s mouth.

Jongdae’s lips upturn into a smirk. He pulls away and his hands move at an unmeasurable speed to undo the buttons on Suho’s shirt, while Suho wastes no time and shifts to suck on Jongdae’s neck. If not for Suho caring so damn much about his Armani, Jongdae would have just ripped it open. The heated trail gifted by Suho’s warm tongue makes Jongdae shudder, and he has to fight to keep his eyes open when he manages to shed the shirt off of Suho and tosses it away.

“Happy now?” Jongdae grins, his hands returning to their rightful spots on the older man’s firm pecs. The hands inch upward, fingers twirling in Suho’s hair as Jongdae pulls him in for a kiss of urgency. They stumble toward the bed, limbs entangling and tongues intertwined.

“I’d be happier if your shirt was gone too.”

Suho doesn’t wait for Jongdae’s reaction and hurriedly pulls the black long-sleeve tee over the younger man’s head before letting him fall on the mattress. Suho chucks the tee on the ground and hovers over Jongdae, his arms propped on either side. Jongdae looks up at the gorgeous man with beads of sweat morphing on his forehead, the perfectly styled brown hair now tousled thanks to Jongdae, the flawlessly chiseled face, and god, that sculpture of a body with the top band of his CK boxer briefs peeking out over the belt and inconveniently hiding the v-cut. Jongdae suddenly realizes how lucky he is. I guess... I can wait a little longer.

Ignoring his own throbbing member, Jongdae reaches for the buckle of Suho’s belt as he pulls himself up and proceeds to rapidly undo the belt. He can hear Suho panting heavily above him, silently urging him. Jongdae yanks down Suho’s pants. He palms the bulge under the boxer briefs, massaging it gently, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Suho. The friction between the sensitive skin and the cotton fabric quickly works up a heated sensation that sends Suho’s eyes rolling upward. Suho reaches to strip himself, but his hand is slapped away and before he knows it, Jongdae pushes him down on the bed.

“Let me do it, hyung.”

Suho blinks. Jongdae straddles the older man’s thighs and sheds the last item of clothing on Suho’s body, freeing his painfully hard dick.

Jongdae looks up and into Suho’s eyes as he licks his lips. Suho shudders, his heart pounding against his chest and his blood rushing down south. Jongdae bends down and Suho hums in satisfaction as the younger man takes his length into his own mouth, enveloping it with warm, wet lips. Jongdae slowly works up a rhythm, up and down, his tongue adeptly swirling in a vortex and his free hands caressing Suho’s inner thighs.

“Oh god, Jongdae,” groans Suho as the younger man flicks his tongue over the tip of Suho’s dick, lapping up the precum before sucking it, just the tip, while his right hand strokes the shaft at an accelerated speed. Suho arches up and buries his fingers in Jongdae’s black hair, calling his name in between desperate moans.

Suho suddenly sits up and flips Jongdae over. The younger man widens his eyes in a split second of surprise. Jongdae watches Suho put two fingers into his own mouth before quickly sliding one into Jongdae, and then the other.

Jongdae gasps at the entrance. Because Suho has been so busy lately, they haven’t really had much quality time of pleasure, so the penetrating sensation somehow feels a little foreign. But Jongdae quickly adapts and relaxes when Suho leans down and captures his mouth in a fervent kiss while working his digits slowly.

“Hyung...” Jongdae breathes out of the corner of Suho’s mouth. “I’m ready.”

Suho chuckles, his tongue tracing over his upper lip. He straightens up and gently presses down and parts Jongdae’s raised thighs, opening him up. He slowly pushes in, filling the younger man.

Jongdae whimpers at the entrance, but soon starts to moan as Suho begins to move. Jongdae has been craving this; the sensation of fullness, the warmth in his abdomen pooling and expanding and taking over his senses, the feeling of Suho deep inside him. He needed this, and he knows Suho needed it too when the older man starts thrusting with frantic urgency. Suho hits Jongdae’s prostate precisely with each thrust, sending Jongdae over the edge as his fingers dig into Suho’s arms and his legs wrapped tight around the torso. Knowing that he’s near, Suho palms Jongdae’s pulsating dick and begins pumping furiously as Jongdae’s hands drop to the sheets, clutching fistfuls of fabric. With a grunt, Suho releases into Jongdae, who also comes at almost the same time, the hot fluid spurting over his own abs.

Suho slumps over next to Jongdae, both panting heavily. Jongdae closes his eyes in content. He opens them again in surprise when a peck lands on his left cheek.

“Thank you,” whispers Suho with a smile, an elbow propped beneath his head.

Jongdae meets the older man’s gaze and blinks in confusion.  
“For what?”

Suho raises a hand to Jongdae’s face, slender fingers brushing over the pronounced eyebrows, the cheekbone, the jawline, and finally arriving at the flushed lips.

“For staying.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

The few weeks preceding the match are uneventful. Everyone is too emotionally invested in the gruesome training and practice to care for anything off the pitch.

Jongin is finally back in shape, much to Doojoon’s pleased relief, and barely makes even a passing comment or inquiry to Luhan about the transfer.

Though Luhan is technically in the pre-transfer, he still puts in his all for his last practices and match with Chelsea. The guys have become a family to him, and amongst the endless drills, he’s become hyper-aware of the team dynamics and the unique bond he’s established with each of them. Several times, he finds himself wondering whether he’ll be able to have this with United.

Jongdae feels an occasional loss due to the measly number of hours he gets to spend with Suho, but he’s also too focused (or rather, he subconsciously forces himself to) on the match that he gradually forgets about the fact that Suho is nowhere to be found 90% of the time.

Suho, of course, has legitimate reasons for his absence. Besides monitoring the practice sessions and mock scrimmages roughly once a week, Suho is running from one meeting to the next, negotiating with United regarding Luhan’s contract on his behalf, supervising and approving match-oriented marketing, and all match-related logistics. Save for a good-morning, good-night, or have-you-eaten-yet text, Suho barely has time to spare for any formal communication with Jongdae, but he does try to sneak in a phone call here and there, even just for a few seconds from parking his car to entering the building housing the next item on his agenda.

Kyungsoo, oh let’s not forget about Kyungsoo. He’s probably the person most grateful for the upcoming match and the intense practices that come with it. He dives into it all with such zeal and focus that his closest friend, Chanyeol, picks it up almost effortlessly, and finds it just a little unnerving. Of course, Kyungsoo doesn’t reveal the reason behind this unprecedented, almost desperate, exertion; he clings onto the groundless superstition that if he doesn’t verbally formulate something, that something will remain a mere idea and never takes tangible form. Much to his disappointment, Kyungsoo’s heart still beats a little faster than normal when he catches Jongin in the corner of his eye, and his palms still sweat a little when he further pauses—which he immediately regrets—and realizes how captivating Jongin is when he’s all sweats and grunts. But thanks to this notion called “the match” nebulously looming over his head, Kyungsoo is able to banish unwanted thoughts and feelings from his consciousness. For now, at least.

 

❄❄❄

 

 

 

_“AND GOALLLL by Luhan for Chelsea!!!!!”_

The commentator screams into the mic, his voice quickly drowned out by the roaring stadium and the thunderous rustling of Chelsea banners and flags.

The scoreboard reads 0:1, Chelsea leads.

United is probably the toughest opponent for Chelsea. The rivalry between the two is so fierce that some members have begun to hold a personal grudge against the opposite club. Everyone, from both clubs, is hyper-conscious of the significance of the match as well as the level of rivalry, which has rapidly shot off the charts.

Luhan beams as he jogs back toward the midline and returns a high-five from Minho, the right winger. Kyungsoo, the left winger and a couple yards away from Luhan and Minho, flips a thumbs-up at Luhan with a grin. As per usual, Luhan looks to Kris out of reflex, who’s the center and several yards behind the midline, currently panting slightly with his hands perched on his hips. Kris gives a curt nod, his lips pursed in a straight line, but that’s enough of an affirmation Luhan needs. Then his eyes involuntarily find Jongin at the goalmouth all the way across the pitch. It’s too far for him to make out Jongin’s expressions, but he knows, just like every time he scores, Jongin is wearing a face-splitting grin, one that he smugly refers to as Luhan-exclusive. Luhan has about a nanosecond to lament the fact that this is the last match he plays with Jongin before the whistle blows and a United midfielder kicks off the restart.

The ball flies across the Chelsea half of the pitch and is received by Baekhyun, the center defender with a front header, followed by a chest trap to stabilize the ball. He passes it toward the direction of Chanyeol, the right defender, who gracefully receives the pass and quickly begins to dribble diagonally downfield, toward the left sideline and midline. His movement targets Luhan, but his eyes are fixed on Kyungsoo. Chanyeol ducks past Sehun, the center midfielder who blocks a sliding tackle for his carrying teammate. Chanyeol senses a United left midfielder coming toward him and executes a through pass to Luhan as a last-minute fake move. The United defenders take the bait and swarm toward Luhan, who miraculously spots an open Kyungsoo behind the tight line of defense and lobs the ball over. Kyungsoo effortlessly thigh-traps the ball and dashes toward the goalmouth, ball dribbling between his feet. Doojoon yells from the left sideline as Kyungsoo bolts past him, “TRAILER AT 4 O’CLOCK!” Kyungsoo fleetingly considers the idea of push-passing back to Sehun, but he’s already nearing the left edge of the penalty box. “Shit,” Kyungsoo mutters as he spots a familiar United defender out of the corner of his eye. He’s at the point of no return; there’s no way for him to carry the ball back toward the midline.

_“... looks like Do Kyungsoo is hesitating. Is he going for the goal?? To pass, or not to pass, is the question....”_

Kyungsoo bites down on his lower lip as he slows the dribbling right outside of the box, then he suddenly sees Tao swerving between the players in the United defense line, who become visibly flustered. Mistaking Tao as the potential receiver, the line dissolves as the United defenders resumes another formation around Tao, who is charging toward Kyungsoo. But Kyungsoo doesn’t pass. Instead, he picks up the dribbling and sneaks around the player shielding him, then, out of nowhere, launches into a short sprint and cuts a few yards into the box from the outer left corner. He swings his right leg, sending the ball into an arc that slashes through the frosted air of December.

The ball precisely hits the net by the far right post.

_“... can you believe it? CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Chelsea’s very own left winger just SCORED the second goal barely 15 minutes from their first one. United is visibly astonished more than upset. Who would have thought? This is the, what, third goal in Do Kyungsoo’s entire career?...”_

Kyungsoo couldn’t believe his eyes. He scored. He just fucking scored. Suddenly, the deafening cheer throughout the stadium and the vast pitch before him become suffocatingly overwhelming. He slumps to the ground dizzily, his legs folding under him as his unblinking eyes remain trained on the ball that gradually rolls to a stop beside the net. Kyungsoo feels rigorous pats on his back. He jolts and blinks into a pair of panda eyes.

“I knew you’d take the hint,” Tao grins from ear to ear. Kris emerges beside the left midfielder and ruffles up his hair. “Dude, that was bloody brilliant,” says Kris with a captain’s pride. “You too, Kyungsoo. I knew you had it in you.”

“YAH! THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!!” Chanyeol’s baritone cry shakes Kyungsoo’s eardrums as the giant pounces on him and traps him in a stifling bear hug.

“You ran all the way over here just to do this?” Kyungsoo breathes with difficuty as he struggles to push Chanyeol away.

“Well, DUH. My best friend just scored,” Chanyeol flashes a teethy smile as he peels himself off of the said best friend and slaps Kyungsoo on the butt.

“Well, that was a stupid decision, because you have approximately 10 seconds to get back in position,” Kyungsoo points to the ref approaching the midline with a ball in his hand.

“... oh shit,” Chanyeol mumbles as he launches into a sprint upfield. Kyungsoo chuckles as he also jogs back in position right behind the midline, his heart still pounding inside his chest and his body still riding on the adrenaline from the recent goal. He takes a deep breath and exhales, his hands rested on his knees and his eyes fixed at the midline.

Luhan catches a murmur as he jogs past a player in a white jersey and dark grey shorts. “That wide-eyed little guy? Who would’ve thought,” the comment is followed by a condescending snort.

Luhan ignores it and gets into position roughly 5 yards away from the midline. He peers at the United player with the snide remark, located a couple yards diagonally from him, a midfielder judging from his position. He looks familiar, Luhan thinks as he observes the guy in spiked-up hair held by a black-and-white plaid bandana. When the United player notices that Luhan is looking at him, his lips curve into a pompous smirk, rounding out his puffy cheeks. Then it snaps into place in Luhan’s head. Kim Minseok, a midfielder and a United acecard, not to mention one of the top ranked players in the League. Luhan knew of him before, both from matches and the media, but he didn’t recognize him off the bat, probably due to the change in hair, Luhan muses.

Luhan doesn’t have a good impression of Minseok. Not because of the underlying tone of rivalry against United, because Luhan has always been somewhat immune to that, United being his dream team and all. It’s because Jongin apparently had a run-in with the guy. The story goes that Jongin was at a bar in downtown Fulham for some birthday drinks with his high school friends, and Minseok was there with some United players. Minseok recognized Jongin as the Chelsea goalkeeper (because of his memorable good looks, Jongin inserts) and, possibly in an impulsive moment disinhibited by alcohol, marched up to Jongin and began talking him down (him as in the entire club of Chelsea, Jongin notes). The malicious acidity in Minseok’s taunts, which were obnoxiously loud even for a noisy bar, effectively riled Jongin up in no time, and his friends had to struggle to hold him back before Jongin could suckerpunch the guy.

Luhan snaps out of his reverie at the sharp blow of the whistle, before he had the chance to ponder how he would face Minseok when they become teammates.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so after like forever i finally managed to update this fic. you guys should thank Laura who got me committed to this writing boot camp or this chapter wouldn't have happened, tbh.  
> also, if you can, i recommend reading this chap while listening to [I Hate You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0AjYMW6Bm4) by Urban Zakapa. i listened to it on repeat while churning out this chap. it really sets the mood, imo.

 

Nearly three hours later, the scoreboard flashes 3:2 and pandemonium runs amok in the bleachers and on the pitch, the announcers' voices becoming a mere buzz. A successful penalty kick by Minho catapulted Chelsea to victory, and the perimeters of the pitch are bursting at the seams with the players' loved ones. Reporters swarm around the Chelsea players and shove mics into the faces of stars of the day, namely, Kyungsoo, Luhan, Minho, and Jongin, who has managed to block a vital shot from United.

Compared to Kyungsoo, the other three are relatively at ease with the media, having been interviewed a few times in the past. Today marks the first time a mic is pointed directly at Kyungsoo's mouth, pairs of eyes earnest and hands poised to document his words. Kyungsoo's stomach does an unwelcomed flip and he gulps, mind completely blank. His large eyes, full of fright, catch an encouraging gaze and affirmative nod from Jongin. Kyungsoo swallows uncertainties and speaks, looking at Jongin who sustains him with a reassuring smile.

Chelsea's victory quickly makes the headlines and blog titles, and football fans begin to namedrop Kyungsoo, the dark horse of the club. The hubbub that envelopes the team lingers for weeks, as it should, and then things are back to normal. _Almost_.

The end of the year is approaching, and Jongin knows what that means, as if he has been mentally crossing off dates on a calendar inside his head. The transfer window is dwindling day by day; it is only a matter of time before Luhan leaves Chelsea. Just the club, Jongin tries to reassure himself, that's it. Luhan's departure will only be a name removed from the Chelsea roster and a temporarily empty locker. Its implications are--should be--divorced from any personal significance. But it hurts Jongin physically to force himself into blissful ignorance when every passing moment becomes larger and heavier, carrying the weight of Luhan's distance that has become palpable.

Luhan pleads guilty to wishing that Chelsea would lose in that match, as charged by his conscience. If they had lost, he would probably feel better about transferring, and his teammates may be more receptive to the news when they find out. But they won, and Luhan catches himself in between ecstatic pride and numbing guilt. Weeks later, cluttered feelings of ambivalence are still stuck to him, accusatory voices gnawing incessantly, like a spoiled child who won't stop wailing until he gets his toy.

 

In the locker room after practice sessions that have become slightly lax since the match, Luhan stands feet away when the guys are gathered around a bench, guffawing at something inane or mundane. He begins to find excuses to skip out on after-practice drinks and quick bites, feigning "personal business to attend to". No one really thinks much of it, except Jongin, who easily notices how Luhan has become absent despite his body being there, eyes avoidant and movements constrained.

At home, Luhan tries too hard. He laughs a little too loud and easily at Jongin's unfunny jokes, fingers remain a little longer than they used to, hugs and kisses carry a little too much vigor, strained and contrived. Jongin knows he's overcompensating, and he waits for Luhan to talk to him. But he never does, and Jongin is forced to revisit the feeling of being quarantined in the dark, kept from Luhan's thoughts.

When they fuck, which happens more often than it used to, Luhan is overly eager, and Jongin is miserable because he can see the detachment in Luhan's eyes. It's gotten to the point where Jongin almost flinches when Luhan's fingers wrap around his cock, hand warm and touch cold. Jongin can't stop his body from responding, but he shrinks inside and restrains himself from screaming. Yet he concedes and indulges Luhan even though little pieces of himself wither and fall, because he's Jongin and that's the way he loves.

"Luhan," Jongin breathes as he thrusts, cupping Luhan's face in which he bores a pleading gaze. "Come back." _Please_.

Luhan's eyes are clouded, unfocused. He responds in moans that Jongin wishes were words.

Jongin's eyes fall shut when he comes, and then drops on the bed, body weighed by sporadic thoughts and labored breaths. He stares into the ceiling as Luhan rises. Jongin closes his eyes involuntarily.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Luhan murmurs through warm lips that press on Jongin's before rolling out of bed, a kiss that feels colder than the five degrees Celsius in the air outside. Jongin hears the water running and he rolls to his side.

That night, he dreams of bullets being aimed at him, and Luhan standing before him with arms raised, acting like a shield. The bullets ricochet, scattering into a silent cacophony. He looks past Luhan's shoulders and sees the shooter, a man with Luhan's face.

 

❄❄❄

December 24, Christmas Eve. Mounts of snow have amassed on the roads and rooftops of Fulham. The Chelsea pitch is covered with a pristine layer of white, untouched as of late in light of the holidays.

As per Chelsea tradition, a Christmas party is held each year on the Eve before out-of-towners return to their respective hometowns. Suho, the usual coordinator of everything related to Chelsea, is assisted by Jongdae in the party planning, which includes an ambitious undertaking of a grandiose theme in celebration of their recent victory. Jongdae doubts the necessity of such an endeavor and tries to dissuade Suho, who stands his ground as firm as ever. Little does Jongdae know that Suho is going to such lengths partly because the event will also be Luhan's farewell party, and having been the one to sign him on (and then off), Suho is determined to make it the most memorable event in Chelsea history.

And so it becomes one.

 

❄❄❄

"Yo."

Kyungsoo feels a hand drop on his shoulder. He turns around and looks into a pair of twinkling eyes, ones that he could get lost in forever.

"I think you need a refill over there," Jongin chins toward the empty cup in Kyungsoo's hand. He blinks.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Kyungsoo averts his eyes, flustered as he turns his gaze downward. A glass of champagne emerges before him.

"It's Christmas, you can't do with just fruit punch, my friend." Jongin tilts the glass toward him. Kyungsoo eyes the bubbly liquid suspiciously. Jongin laughs.

"C'mon, it's not going to kill you," Jongin coaxes, taking Kyungsoo's hand and pushes the stem of the glass into his palm. The touch tingles Kyungsoo all the way to his core. "Plus, it'd do Suho a disservice if you don't try a sip at least." According to Jongdae, Suho went through several phone calls and even store visits to get his hands on a box of premium champagne. Kyungsoo forces himself to not think about how much it had cost. He takes a guilty sip, wariness still wandering on his face.

"Merry Christmas, Kyungsoo."

Kyungsoo stares at the raised glass and then past it, a smile so radiant that he wants to photograph it and frame it on the wall of his heart.

"Merry Christmas, Jongin," Kyungsoo manages finally, in a bare whisper, as their glasses clang.

A few feet away and beside the long catering table finds Baekhyun scooping pasta onto his plate and then punching Chanyeol in the arm, the latter bursting into a half-assed yelp before spotting Kyungsoo and gesturing for him to join the duo. On the couch off to the side sits Kris and Jongdae in an apparently intense conversation, Jongdae speaking rapidly with excessive hand gestures and Kris nodding with furrowed brows. Tao and Yixing are in another corner, hovering over opposite ends of a foosball table and yelling loudly at each other and their plastic players.

Jongin surveys the room for Luhan. He frowns when his boyfriend is nowhere to be found. He strolls up to Sehun and Minho, who are huddled around an iPad.

"Hey, have you guys seen Luhan?"

Jongin's answer comes when someone taps a mic and coughs into it. His eyes shoot toward the center back of the room, where Suho is holding a mic awkwardly and Luhan standing stiffly behind him. Jongin's stomach drops.

"Uhm," Suho speaks with uncertainty, his amplified voice traveling through the room. "Can I get everyone's attention please?"

After some shuffles of reluctant footsteps, a crowd slowly gathers, watching Suho with anticipation and Luhan with curiosity.

"First of all, thanks everyone for coming out," Suho scans the players and their families and friends. "Not to brag, but I have worked my ass off for this party," chuckles scatter through the crowd, "and I hope everyone is enjoying themselves." Chanyeol and Jongdae cheer loudly, slapping their hands together as others follow suit. Suho catches a thumbs-up from Jongdae and grins, "Also, a special shoutout to Jongdae, who has kindly offered to help with a ton of errands." Suho almost adds _"Without him, this party wouldn't have been possible"_ , but bites his tongue just in time.

"Before we wrap up the night, I, erm, rather, Luhan, has an announcement to make."

The crowd murmurs inquisitively, and the players look from Luhan to Jongin, question marks filling their eyes. Jongin blinks, and decides to shrug in feigned ignorance while his blood rages in his ears. He turns his eyes to Luhan, who receives the mic from Suho gingerly, lips worried between his teeth.

"Well, um," Luhan starts, wiping a sweaty palm on his jeans. He doesn't know where to put his eyes, which end up on the Christmas tree on the opposite end of the room. He searches his memory for the rehearsed speech, but his head is too murky with a million and one thoughts swimming around. "I don't really know the best way to put this, so I'm just gonna come out and say it." He takes a deep breath.

"I'm transferring to United in January."

Silence quickly permeates the room, growing and stifling, until the sounds of glass shattering erupt, and all hell breaks loose.

"What the fuck, man?" Kris is the first to stomp forward and grips Luhan by the collar, eyes blazing while the rest of the team gathers around, shocked and worried chatters droning behind them. "You couldn't have told me?? I'm your fucking captain!!" Suho tries to pull him away and barely succeeds when a fist lands on Luhan's face, sending him to the floor as the crowd gasps. Luhan holds his bruised jaw and wipes the bloodied corner of his mouth, unreadable eyes falling on the offender, Chanyeol, who is breathing heavily and will have thrown a second punch if not for Tao and Minho holding him back. Suho's distressed voice that attempts to calm everyone down gets buried under livid shouts and disconcerted questions. Luhan remains silent, unprotesting, like a defendant who has already accepted his death sentence. Jongin, whose feet are planted to the periphery, feels his body driven by an instinct to stand between Luhan and the others, guarding him from misunderstood resentment and misconstrued betrayal, but something pulls him back. So he just stands and watches, his heart bleeding all the same.

"Hyung..." Sehun's voice reaches Luhan's ears as the younger one helps him up. Luhan turns to him and wishes he didn't; hurt and puzzlement brimming in Sehun's eyes. "Are you alright?"

Luhan nods, lips barely breaking into a grateful smile when Kris speaks, more calmly this time.

"At least tell us the reason."

Luhan hesitates, then relents.

"I just... it's just a career goal." The words sound so ludicrous and heartless that Luhan, for a moment, wishes it weren't true. The group is quiet, digesting the information that they all refuse to believe.

"But hyung," Baekhyun croaks. "We just beat them!" Chanyeol wraps an arm around Baekhyun's trembling shoulders, lips pursed in a straight line. Luhan doesn't know what to say to that.

"It's his choice," Jongin's voice seeps through from the side. The others turn to him with a slight jolt, as if surprised that he's been somewhere besides Luhan's side all this time. "It's nothing personal, guys, so just drop it."

Luhan watches Jongin, who gives him a fleeting glance before exhaling in defeat, eyes averted.

"Jongin, how could you let him?" Jongdae grips Jongin by the arm. "You of all people--"

"Leave Jongin out of it." Jongdae turns questioning eyes from Jongin to Luhan, who looks fragile and helpless. "It's got nothing to do with him."

The words are intended to be protective, an emergent defense, but they stab Jongin right in the chest, twisting and crumpling him into insignificance. Jongin turns on his heels without thinking.

He doesn't realize he was running until he stops and notices himself panting, huffing fogs into the frosted air. He had bolted out without a coat, and he shivers underneath the inadequate sweater. Behind him, he hears footsteps trudging through the snow, unhurried, or perhaps afraid. Jongin remains still and shuts his eyes, stung with tears that threaten to fall. Arms surround his chilled body from behind, and a cheek presses against his back.

"Jongin--"

"Stop," Jongin turns abruptly, breaking out of the embrace. "Just don't," he mumbles, voice barely escaping from his raw throat.

Luhan bites his lips, apprehension overflowing from his eyes that are screaming too many and too few apologies.

"You know, all this time, I thought it would become easier as time went on. I thought I'd get used to you leaving. But I was wrong." Jongin closes his eyes, shaking his head ruefully. "You're already gone, Luhan. You're not here anymore."

Luhan wants to protest, to defend himself, _It's hard for me too. Did you know that I even started to regret the transfer? I'm not ready to leave, Jongin_ , but no sounds make out of his quivering lips. The Jongin now seems so far away, Luhan doesn't even know if anything he says will reach him.

"I think..." Jongin continues, eyes cast downward as his feet kick the snow. "We should take a break."

The words ram into Luhan in the chest, knocking breaths and unspoken pleas out of him. Jongin lingers for a moment, anguished eyes searching Luhan's face, then turns and walks away, leaving a wake of heartbroken footprints.

Luhan drops to the ground, insensitive to the snow that bites into him. He gasps after several withheld breaths, chest heaving before his head falls into his hands and tears trickle through his fingers.

From some distance away, faint sounds of Christmas carols meander through the frigid air, warming the hearts of those that hear the melody, save for two that are wrenched beyond repair.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

The Christmas holidays quickly came to an end, too quick for the Chelsea players who return home only during the major holidays. Just like everyone else, Jongin and Luhan wished that it was still Christmas and that they were sitting in front of the fireplace, surrounded by their family and momentarily distracted. But they were forced back into reality, eventually, and pushed to face the things they were running away from.

Luhan completed the transfer with United during the first week of January, shortly after the New Year's. He didn't tell Jongin. In fact, they haven't spoken since Jongin initiated "the break". On Luhan's last day with Chelsea, everyone was huddled around the bench in the locker room as he cleaned out his locker, Tao's eyes red with tears brimming, Baekhyun sniffling and mouth involuntarily drawn into a pout, and Kris silent with a stiffened jaw. Still, the guys each gave Luhan a suffocating hug, and Chanyeol offered to carry a duffel bag and takes it despite Luhan's refusal, as if making up for that punch he threw in Luhan's face.

Jongin wasn't there when all of this happened. Luhan was afraid to ask, so he didn't. But even if he did, no one had the answer.

 

❄❄❄

 

"Do you realize what you're doing?"

Suho exhales into the phone, peeved and frustrated. Jongin is on the other end of the line, calling to tell Suho that he won't be coming to practice. There's no "I'm not feeling well" or "Some personal matter just came up", just a mere "I won't be able to make it". Suho knows better. Jongin stays silent, partly hoping Suho could read his mind and let it go because he can't and he needs someone to do it for him.

"You're basically telling me you won't be here to see Luhan off."

There is no answer. Suho takes that as a yes. He shuts his eyes tight in despair, and sighs for the third time during the phone call.

"Fine. If that's what you want." Suho hangs up. He knows he's not going to get any words out of Jongin anyway.

"It's not," Jongin whispers to the dial tone. "But I don't know what else to do."

 

❄❄❄

 

Chanyeol spots Doojoon on his way out of the locker room, Luhan's duffel bag hanging from his arm. Doojoon gives him an understanding nod and Chanyeol responds with a salute; he'll join the others in the drill after he helps carry the bag to Luhan's car.

Chanyeol shoves the duffel bag into Luhan's trunk when it snaps open.

"He's not coming, is he?"

Luhan's voice sounds so soft that Chanyeol wonders if he's imagining it. But when he turns, Luhan is standing next to him, hands shoved inside his pockets and eyes drifting far away. Chanyeol sees something shattering in Luhan's eyes and opens his mouth, though he quickly realizes nothing he says right now would be enough to put the pieces back together.

"Never mind," Luhan suddenly turns and tosses a small smile at Chanyeol. "Don't answer that."

"Hyung--"

"Thanks for the hand, Chanyeol." Luhan gives the taller man two pats on the back. "I'll see you around."

"Kim Jongin, you moron," Chanyeol hisses as he watches Luhan's car take off.

 

❄❄❄

Luhan heads straight to the Aon Training Complex to attend his first training after the transfer. New teammates, new coach, new locker, new pitch. His nerves tingle in anticipation, anxious to start a new career, one he's dreamed of since he was a teen. On the 3-hour drive up, Jongin's face surfaces in his mind from time to time, his voice (" _We should take a break_ ") fading in and out, and each instance stamps something scalding on his chest. But once Luhan parks in the lot and walks inside the complex, his duffel bag in hand, the vastness of the grounds shushes everything Jongin.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"This is what you want, Luhan," he mutters to himself. "This is it."

As instructed by Shane, United's manager, Luhan heads to his office, where he meets a stocky, dark-haired man in his late 30s who introduces himself as Trev, the coach. Shane and Trev go over the practice schedule, club policies, and other standard procedures with Luhan before Trev leads him out of the office compound and to the locker room, where he is shown to his locker, painted blue rather than the orange he's used to. Trev leaves Luhan to get settled in after informing him that practice will begin in 15 minutes.

There will be a lot of things to get used to, Luhan realizes. The fact that Kim Minseok's locker is right next to his, for example.

The spiky hair dude (not wearing a bandana this time) gives Luhan a cautious once-over when he finds Luhan transferring items from the duffel bag to his new locker.

"Oh look, it's the new guy." Minseok leans against his own locker by the arm, watching Luhan curiously. Luhan pauses and straightens up, eyes set square on Minseok's. He extends a hand with a reserved smile.

"Hi, I'm Luhan," he offers. Even though he's not exactly fond of Minseok, the guy is his teammate, after all, and better to make friends than enemies with people on the same club.

"I know who you are." Minseok sneers. He looks down at Luhan's hand, which remains unclasped. Luhan stiffens and retracts his hand. He turns back to his duffel bag and pulls out his set of United training kits, opting to ignore Minseok and whatever obnoxious remarks he has in store as he pulls his shirt over his head.

"Interesting that you chose to transfer... from Chelsea." Minseok continues, a demeaning smirk playing on his lips. "How does it feel to leave your mates behind? And your..." he glances at a photo frame peeking out of Luhan's duffel bag. "Boyfriend?"

Something snaps inside Luhan and he grabs Minseok by the collar and slams him into the locker door, the shirt he just took off flung to the ground.

"That," Luhan growls, narrowed eyes boring into Minseok's taunting gaze, "is none of your fucking business."

Not at all threatened, Minseok pushes Luhan off and rubs his nape. He chuckles, eyes sweeping down to Luhan's toned chest and abs, muscles still flexed from rage. Minseok's lips tuck into a smile and Luhan concludes that's the part he resents the most about him.

"Welcome to United, pretty boy. See you out on the pitch." Minseok supplies as he turns around and strolls off, sarcasm striking Luhan's ears loud and clear.

"Asshole," Luhan mumbles, inhaling slowly before tugging a long-sleeve body warmer down his torso. The synthetic fabric itches against his skin, adding to the nuisance of the whole situation. He groans as he cracks his neck, praying that the others won't give him a hard time like Minseok is obviously aiming to.

 

❄❄❄

At Cobham, the Chelsea players are half way through their drill and Jongin still hasn't showed. No one says anything, though everyone sort of has an idea what happened. However, that doesn't stop them from worrying, especially Kyungsoo.

After a hurried shower, Kyungsoo shoves his kits into the duffel bag quietly. He says a quick goodbye to his locker neighbor Sehun and shuffles out the locker room.

"Kyungsoo!" Minho calls after him. "A few of us are gonna go to Haynes, you comin'?"

"Oh, uh, I was actually planning to check on Jongin..." Kyungsoo confesses, one foot already out the door. He feels a little guilty but he doesn't know why.

"Oh alright, go right ahead." Minho understands immediately. Kyungsoo smiles gratefully and waves him goodbye.

Kyungsoo has been to Jongin and Luhan's place once, after some dinner party where Jongin got trashed and Luhan was nowhere to be found. Kyungsoo had decided to take Jongin home regardless, partly to save his new dress shirt in the event of unexpected puking, and partly because, well, he just wanted to take care of Jongin. The flat is off the outskirts of Fulham and not on the most conspicuous street, but Kyungsoo somehow still remembers how to get there.

He suddenly realizes how clammy his hands are after he presses the door bell, waiting for it to open and Jongin's face to emerge behind it.

"Dude, you're 10 minutes late--" The door flies open and Jongin starts talking before his vision focuses on the person outside. "Kyungsoo? What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, were you expecting someone?" Kyungsoo suddenly feels very silly. He should have called, he thinks regretfully.

"Yeah." Kyungsoo's face falls. "Just the delivery guy," Jongin beams and Kyungsoo can't help but smile back. "Come on in. You haven't had dinner, have you?"

Kyungsoo didn't expect Jongin to let him stay to have dinner. He didn't expect himself to be scooping out beef and broccoli and have Jongin laugh at him because he apparently can't hold chopsticks properly. He also didn't expect himself to fall deeper than he already has, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, it was a mistake coming to see Jongin tonight.

"Luhan hyung..." Kyungsoo chooses his words carefully. "Is he late with practice?"

Sadness casts over Jongin's face and Kyungsoo wishes he had kept his mouth shut.

"He said he's eating with his--" Jongin pauses. "--teammates." The phrase sounds so awfully _wrong_ it strikes like clangs against his ears and he winces, brows drawing into a fleeting knot. _And then he's going to look for a new flat in Carrigton_ , Jongin thinks bitterly. He doesn't want Kyungsoo - or anyone - to know that Luhan is moving out, though this is not entirely irrational considering Aon is a 3-hour drive away. It's more that he doesn't want people to know that he's more broken than he looks. "He'll be home late."

"Jongin--" Kyungsoo starts but Jongin suddenly gets up from his chair, carrying take-out cartons to the sink. "I'm sorry." Kyungsoo attempts in a small voice.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." Jongin turns and returns a rueful smile, and Kyungsoo feels a piece of his heart gets chipped off. "I should thank you for keeping me company tonight."

Before he knows it Kyungsoo is off his chair and taking one, two determined strides toward Jongin and before he can regret it, he throws his arms around the taller man and hugs tighter than he had the courage to.

_I can keep you company any time you want me to._

But he still isn't brave enough to say what he wants Jongin to hear.

 

❄❄❄

Luhan is moved out by the end of the week. Jongin can't tell if it really was that easy finding a flat in Carrington, or Luhan just couldn't wait to leave.

He doesn't want to know which one it was.

The night that Luhan moves the last box out the door, they slip into another quarrel, which comes almost too easily now. Jongin tries to bite his tongue, to convince himself that this is just temporary, but the way Luhan isn't fighting back makes Jongin think that perhaps it's already over. If Luhan has stopped trying, why should he?

Their one-bedroom seems too large and confined at the same time, the walls caging in where Luhan's shadow seems to linger. It's like a house haunted by all the memories and Jongin thinks it's really fucking unfair how he's the one to sleep with the ghosts of the past.

That night, Jongin lies in the king-sized bed, alone, tears falling soundlessly into the sheets as he stares at the empty right side of the bed.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can, i suggest watching [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DghriCt-eRM) before reading. it paints a very vivid picture of what Jongin is going through at the start of this chapter.
> 
> also, if you fancy a listen - [bgm](http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=2_pSXRzQeew) for this chap.

After Luhan moved out, Jongin quickly descends into dysfunction, and he is forced to take a day off by Suho.

Then a day turns into two. Then three. Then a week.

Suho keeps getting voicemail whenever he tries to call. Both he and Doojoon have personally knocked on Jongin's door, to no response. Everyone is getting worried out of their minds. What if something had happened?

Suho resorts to calling Luhan, who seems surprised at the news because Jongin has been returning his text messages. Suho belatedly realizes that of course Jongin would still reply; he wouldn't want Luhan to think he's stopped functioning. That kid and his stupid pride.

So Jongin is definitely still alive. But not well. Definitely not well, Suho concludes with a sigh.

The next day, he asks Kyungsoo, as a personal favor, to make a visit. Kyungsoo is thrilled (which he managed to hide) and agrees readily.

So it is two weeks after his last visit that Kyungsoo finds himself fidgeting again outside Jongin's (no longer Luhan and Jongin's) flat, staring into the door as if it will open by itself.

"Jongin? It's me, Kyungsoo. Open the door, please?" Kyungsoo raps on the door gently and calls. He waits a moment before raising his hand to knock again when he hears footsteps approaching and the lock turning. He doesn't push open the door until he hears Jongin walk away.

In retrospect, when he takes just one step into Jongin's flat, Kyungsoo immediately regrets having obliged to Suho's request.

He steps right on a cockroach. Kyungsoo's insides coil into repulsion as crunching noises sound beneath his sneakers and he slowly looks down. He opts against examining the damage and drags his sole off the floor instead.

He draws a sharp breath when he looks up. Pizza boxes, beer cans, and Chinese take-out cartons litter on the floor, with balled-up paper trash and disposable utensils joining the parade of grimes. Heaps of soiled clothes, neglected, sprawl over the sofa and string up ambiguous paths to the bedroom and bathroom. And cockroaches, now scampering away to corners underneath cabinets and behind bookcases. Kyungsoo grimaces.

"Jesus," he breathes, appalled. Then he starts when the blanket on the sofa shifts.

"Jongin?"

A fluff of dark brown locks emerges from underneath the blanket and Kyungsoo catches a glimpse of Jongin's eyes before he retreats back into the cocoon of woolen fabric. Kyungsoo sighs. He takes careful strides toward the sofa, remnants of Jongin's coping strategy scrunching beneath his shoes. Kyungsoo drops to his heels and studies the mound before lifting a hand and peeling back the blanket. He's met with a pungent smell indicative of a severe lack of personal hygiene.

"God," Kyungsoo pulls a distorted face away, hand almost flying to pinch his nose. "How many days have you gone without a shower?"

"Leave me alone." Jongin whines. The rasp in his voice makes Kyungsoo wonder if he was the last person Jongin spoke to and that worries him a terrifying amount.

"Not until you get a shower."

"I can't move. My ass has transplanted itself to this piece of furniture."

"Is that another way of asking me to bathe you?" Kyungsoo jokes. Then his grin disappears when Jongin falls silent, head turned to the wall. Jongin draws his lips into a line because those words are dreadfully nostalgic. Kyungsoo sighs heavily.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

By sheer luck that Jongin decides to go completely limp instead of kicking him in the nuts, Kyungsoo manages to drag Jongin (who's in a soiled tee and unwashed boxers as pants have become irrelevant) off the sofa and hauls him by the shoulders into the bathroom like a corpse, which is so valid to some extent that it pains Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo yelps when he enters the bathroom because it looks even more crummy and vomit-inducing than the rest of the flat. The brownish water in the toilet flits into the periphery of his vision and he doesn't think twice before pushing down the lever, head turned to the side while breathing out of his mouth. He props the listless form up against the wall, then turns on the water in the tub, which is probably the only clean area in the entire flat considering its unused state.

When he undresses Jongin, Kyungsoo tries to focus on the task at hand ( _yes, it's just a task_ , he tells himself) and avoids meeting Jongin's gaze, the only part of him that hints of life. He tries not to think about the heat rising to his cheeks and the way Jongin's skin feels when his fingers brush over it. He tries not to think at all.

Kyungsoo hauls Jongin into the tub, now filled with warm water a third way up. Jongin looks up at Kyungsoo, eyes all sorts of unreadable, and Kyungsoo tears his eyes away before they could travel downward. His eyes scan the bottles lining across the edge of the tub and picks out a shampoo.

Jongin doesn't say a word as Kyungsoo lathers his fingers through the greasy locks, obediently brushing his teeth as instructed by his stand-in caregiver, but he shudders when the loofah rubs against his shoulders. Kyungsoo nearly gasps when Jongin grips his wrist.

"I'll do it myself." The voice comes as a whisper and Kyungsoo hesitates, but drops the loofah in Jongin's lap anyway.

A few minutes after Kyungsoo pulls the shower curtains closed and waits outside out of concern, he hears the shower head being turned on. The sound of the water stops after a while, but the curtains remain closed and there still isn't Jongin. Kyungsoo frowns.

"Jong--"

The curtains snap open, startling Kyungsoo and almost sending him tumbling backward. Kyungsoo's eyes jerk against his will to the expanse of toned chest, dripping wet, and his face suddenly feels too warm. He begins to sputter a pointless apology and step away when Jongin grabs his arm and turns him sharply, face to face. Kyungsoo withers underneath a gaze more intense than the sun.

"Why are you doing this?"

Kyungsoo swallows.

"I'm-You've been MIA and Suho asked--"

"You like me."

It sounds almost like an accusation. Kyungsoo squirms because he's guilty and he's running out of ideas for an alibi. It isn't until after he pulls his eyes downward does he realize he probably shouldn't have. It makes it all the more obvious.

"You're in love with me."

Jongin's voice softens and Kyungsoo looks up, lips quivering.

Kyungsoo shuts his eyes as Jongin puts a hand to his nape and leans in. He tastes the mint from the toothpaste and a little of despair, neither of which was what he wanted. But Kyungsoo doesn't pull away, mouth falling open on its own when his brain short circuits. He still doesn't pull away when Jongin's tongue pushes in deeper, lips molding against his own, or when Jongin's fingers pull his shirt over his head. It's wrong, and the perversity of it shakes his bones but it doesn't stop his blood from boiling and for the moment, he can't stop touching Jongin even though it burns his hands.

"Wait, Jongin," Kyungsoo gasps and makes to push Jongin away when the taller man yanks his pants down and curls impatient fingers around his shamefully hard cock.

 

"Luhan hyung--"

"He's gone." Jongin spits out, voice grating Kyungsoo's nerves and death is back in his eyes. It terrifies Kyungsoo and his hands drop to his sides.

At the moment, Jongin thinks, in his state of compromised emotions, that an available Kyungsoo trumps an absent Luhan. At least Kyungsoo cares about him, Jongin rationalizes somewhere in between pushing Kyungsoo down onto the bed and spreading lube over his cock.

They always say that the intimacy of sex can transcend all previous understandings as two bodies meld into one, but not like this, Kyungsoo thinks for a very brief moment before Jongin's thrust knocks senses out of him for the nth time. All the moments in which Jongin slowly burns to the ground by his longing for Luhan, Jongin screaming into a void between his knees, into tear-stained hands, into cushions that still smell like Luhan, Jongin pounding frustrated fists into the walls, the oversized bed, his own thighs, untrimmed fingernails digging regrets into his palms - these are the things Kyungsoo feels with each snap of Jongin's hips, driving into Kyungsoo's core ruthlessly. But soon Kyungsoo mentally checks out, euphoria tingling up his spines as his eyes roll into the back of his head at the last time Jongin hits his prostate and he keens off the bed, coming with screams dying inside Jongin's mouth on top of his own.

After Jongin collapses next to Kyungsoo and immediately passes out from probably days of improper sleep, Kyungsoo listens to the sound of Jongin's steady breathing, and thinks it's the saddest song he's ever heard.

 

 

❄❄❄

"Hyung, you _have_ to come, please?"

Luhan cringes at Sehun's incessant whines against his ear. It's Jongdae's birthday and the team is planning to celebrate it with an obscene amount of buffalo wings and beer at Haynes. Everyone will be there, including Suho and Doojoon, and they're extending the invitation to Luhan, who's hesitating for a variety of reasons. There's some rustling and muffling of voices when the phone is passed to someone else.

"C'mon, Luhan." It's Yixing. "I... kinda miss you," the Chelsea midfielder mutters in Mandarin and Luhan snorts. Leave it to Yixing to be cheesy. "We all do, really." Guilt chews at a corner of Luhan's stomach. "You can't avoid him forever, you know. You shouldn't." Yixing reads Luhan's mind and supplies. Luhan tenses before releasing a sigh.

"Alright."

 

The evening pans out better than Luhan had expected, as in less wary side glances and more friendly bro hugs. His eyes search for Jongin the instant he steps into the pub, and tries not to look crestfallen when he doesn't see him. He's coming later, Suho whispers in his ears helpfully. The guys all seem happy to see him again almost a month after his transfer. Baekhyun, one of the first to get sloshed, keeps shouting for additional rounds of beer, while Kris constantly jabs buffalo wings into Luhan's face amidst wild gestures as he complains about the temporary change in their formation. Luhan grins as he tunes Kris out in favor of Chanyeol and Jongdae's improv comedy show between their tables, a mindless hand patting Yixing's back as the latter burps periodically.

Then he freezes when the door opens and in walks Jongin, with Kyungsoo trailing behind. Jongin's eyes meet Luhan's momentarily and Luhan catches something flicker, then it dies just as Jongin shifts glances to somewhere else. Luhan's stomach drops and clenches and he begins to feel nauseated, not from the alcohol.

Luhan's eyes start doing this odd, extremely conflicted movement in which they skitter between Jongin and not-Jongin. He takes in the way Jongin looks, the same old, almost, save for the fact that he no longer looks at Luhan and this makes him feel like a stranger, one that Luhan cares too much about. Luhan tries to distract himself by focusing on Tao and Kris's diatribe on the heinous lack of fashion in the Chelsea training kits, then he sees it.

The way Jongin's fingers ghost over Kyungsoo's arm. The way he leans in close to Kyungsoo, whispering things Luhan doesn't want to hear. The way his shoulder brushes against Kyungsoo's as he reaches over for napkins.

_They fucked._

Luhan knows, he knows because he knows Jongin's body language better than anyone else, and because merely weeks ago he was where Kyungsoo is now. This realization hurls his heart farther than he could reach to pick it up, where it shatters in bitter jealousy.

_You fucked Kyungsoo. Did you fuck him because I wasn't there? To get back at me?_

Luhan grabs the nearest mug and drains it with large gulps. He wipes his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and drops the mug down on the table with a thud, picking up another one. When all the mugs within his reach are emptied, he snatches the one in Kris' hand, earning a strange look from the captain following a few confused blinks.

_You've moved on so fast..._

"Another round over here!" Luhan yells toward the bar, waving an empty mug in the air. Jongin's eyes snap up and dart toward Luhan, who is swaying dangerously and slurring incoherencies to Sehun, apparently held hostage in a head-lock. Kyungsoo casts worried glances to Luhan and looks over to Jongin, who frowns in slight disapproval and extreme concern that shows too easily.

What Luhan doesn't know is that Jongin aches, has been aching since the moment he set foot inside the pub and saw Luhan. He had wanted to go up to Luhan and ask him to come home, that he misses him so very badly and so does their bed, that he's sorry and wants him back. But he didn't because his stupid pride kept him away.

And now he's rooted to his seat, watching Luhan being torn apart by words he said out of hurt, and things he did out of spite.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Jongdae smoothes a hand up and down Luhan's back, hunched over the toilet in the men's room at Haynes. He pinches his nose with the free hand as Luhan pukes his guts out and hacks dry coughs in between waves of nausea. Jongdae sighs.

After a few minutes, Luhan finally feels the nausea subside and drags his head out of the toilet, tipping back and slumping against the wall. A dampened paper towel is pressed into his hand. He forces swollen eyelids to open.

"Thanks, Jongdae." Luhan rasps, an apologetic smile stretched across pale lips. Jongdae smiles sympathetically as he tugs another paper towel from the metal holder.

"I'm sorry for ruining your birthday." Luhan mumbles into his hands, spread across his clammy face. It feels gross and he needs to splash some cold water on it, but he's too drained to get up.

"Don't worry about it." Jongdae says, studying Luhan with concern. "Feeling better now?"

Luhan chuckles weakly at the question that could mean different things.

"I'm not sure." He replies, his voice hushed by dejection and a crummy aftertaste.

Jongdae opens his mouth, wanting to ask what happened, though he has a pretty good idea it has to do with Jongin. He decides against pressing and simply grabs Luhan's arm and throws it across his own shoulders.

"C'mon, let's get you home."

 

 

 

❄❄❄

 

When Jongdae and Luhan emerge from the restroom, the rest of the guys are waiting outside, as the pub is nearing closing time. Jongin is not one of them. Suho and Jongdae confer for a moment and decide to take Luhan back to Jongdae's place, seeing that Luhan is clearly in no shape to drive. They shove Luhan into the backseat, Suho warning him not to get any vomit on the seats jokingly and Jongdae smacking Suho in the chest, telling him to get in and drive.

Suho soon notices that Jongdae is exceptionally quiet on the ride home.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks with a side glance. Jongdae doesn't answer immediately. He turns around and checks on Luhan, who has passed out against the seat, head tilted toward the window.

"Do you think Luhan hyung made the right choice?" Jongdae asks after a moment. Suho glances in the rear mirror at the sleeping form in the back.

"It's neither right nor wrong." Suho answers softly. "He made a personal choice, and we're no one to judge."

"He chose career over love," Jongdae continues. Suho starts to feel caged in and his throat constricts in dread. "Seeing the way he was tonight, I don't think it was worth it." Jongdae murmurs, staring out the window and not looking at Suho.

The implications of Jongdae's words rattle Suho and his lips part, wanting to defend Luhan and maybe vicariously himself, but nothing comes out. He realizes he has no arguments, no defense, no basis of contention because even he himself is ambivalent.

"So what's it gonna be for you, hyung?" Jongdae finally turns to face Suho. Suho has no answer, but the flickers in Jongdae's inquisitive eyes tell him he's running out of time to put one together.

 

 

❄❄❄

 

The next day, Luhan wakes up with a piercing migraine and minimal recollection of the night before, but something continues to pound into his bones even after Jongdae forces eggs and bacon down his throat. As Jongdae drops him off at Haynes' parking lot, blurred images of Jongin, Kyungsoo, and Jongin with Kyungsoo flit in and out of his head. He rubs circles into his temples during the entire drive back up to Carrington, pressing as hard as he can so he can't distinguish between the ache in his head and the pain pulsing through his rib cage.

There is no training scheduled for today, but Luhan goes to Aon anyway, not wanting to go back to a place that echoes his loneliness off the four walls. He doesn't bother with the training kit - the coach isn't watching, anyway - and simply changes into the grey cotton sweatpants he leaves in his locker. Then he goes out to the pitch and wheels out a cart full of footballs, pushing it into the penalty area. He does some quick warm-up's before scooping out a couple of balls and setting them on the ground. Then he pulls back and kicks, sending them into the net one after another. Over and over again. His legs soon begin to burn from lactic acid, his lungs throbbing in the chilled January air and blood surging in his ears. He welcomes it all, the soreness in his body and the assault from the wind, because it drags a nice big blanket over the things that hurt and for the moment, at least, it doesn't sting him to tears.

Two hours later, fatigue forces Luhan to stop swinging his legs, and he lets his feet drag him into the locker room. He freezes as he turns into the aisle where his locker is.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here." Minseok turns from his locker and raises a curious eyebrow at Luhan. Luhan ignores him and shuffles to his own locker, tugging the door open so as to block the other man from his view.

"Y'know, I can't tell if you're having a bad day or you're just always in a pissy mood." Minseok sneers, arms thrown across his chest as he leans back on his locker. Out on the pitch, Minseok treats Luhan no differently than the other teammates, making passes and shielding him according to the instructed strategy. It's in the locker room where Minseok would toss taunts at Luhan when they're side by side, as if that's his way of greeting and getting friendly.

Luhan finds Minseok's behavior extremely childish. He's learned to tune him out and make his stay in the locker room as brief as possible. But today, right now, he begins to crack as Minseok pushes his buttons.

"Why the fuck do you care if I was having a bad day?" Luhan retorts, slamming the locker door shut and facing Minseok with a glare.

"I don't," Minseok chuckles coldly. "Just trying to be friendly, y'know, making small talks since we're the only ones here on an off day."

Luhan rolls his eyes and turns around, moving toward the showers with a towel strapped over his shoulders.

"Not a lovers' quarrel, was it?" Minseok calls. Luhan stops in his track. "I think I saw your boyfriend the other day around Fulham. He was with someone else... whatshisface--"

"Shut up." Luhan whispers, back still turned to Minseok. He tries to swallow the bitter taste under his tongue.

"That wide-eyed little guy, I forget his name." Minseok continues as he takes lazy steps closer to Luhan. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they were just hanging out," he says flatly but all Luhan hears is mockery.

"Shut up." Luhan shuts his eyes tight as he tries to breathe steady. His lips begin to tremble and his fingers curl deep into the towel.

"Did you split?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP." Luhan shouts and whips around, shoving Minseok into the nearest locker with a fist gripping his collar, eyes blazing and chest heaving. Minseok holds his gaze, lips curving into a smirk.

"You're sexy when you're mad, you know that?"

Luhan freezes.

"Fuck you." He loosens the grasp on Minseok and stalks away, picking up the towel he had flung to the ground earlier.

"That'd work." Minseok says nonchalantly. "Though I'd like to top, if you don't mind."

Something snaps in Luhan and he turns sharply, charging right up to Minseok's face.

"That's a very sick joke." Luhan grits out, eyes steeling. Minseok draws his face closer, the tips of their noses nearly touching.

"But I'm not joking, pretty face." Minseok whispers, his breath carrying insinuations straight past Luhan's lips and into his mouth.

Luhan shudders when Minseok drags a finger down his cheek and to his chin where he feels it being tugged down. He doesn't push him away, despite the voices screaming at him inside his head, reminding him of his resentment toward the person he's pressed against. Instead, Luhan closes his eyes and lets his body slump forward as Minseok's mouth captures his lips hungrily. He tastes peppermint gum on Minseok's tongue and shame from his own.

He didn't know he could be more broken than he already was. But here he is, darting his tongue out to meet Minseok's in self-degradation and for a split second, he thinks about how it tastes nothing like Jongin, before Minseok bites down on his lip and he moans, pushing the thought underneath his consciousness. Poignant misery drives his body to keen into Minseok's touch and he blanks out, hands moving on their own as he frantically tugs Minseok's shirt over his head and his own pants are yanked off. Minseok is harsh and unyielding and impatient, dropping Luhan on the bench with a thud and bruising his tailbone. He sinks teeth into Luhan's neck and across his clavicles and Luhan embraces the pain with abandon, groaning and shivering into more and more of it as Minseok sucks and drags his tongue over each bite. He gasps when Minseok wraps a hand around his cock, throbbing in want and vindictive desperation. He bucks up as Minseok begins pumping, moans falling from his lips sinfully as his mind is momentarily wiped clean of rationality and memory of Jongin's touch. Minseok slicks up two fingers with spit and begins working Luhan open when Luhan props himself up and pulls his hand away.

"Just--I'm ready," Luhan huffs out between ragged breaths, glazed eyes struggling to meet Minseok's skeptical gaze.

"Are you sure? It's gonna hurt." Minseok asks as he kneads Luhan's thighs, his own cock already hard and twitching.

"Yes," Luhan breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he lowers back down into the bench. "I'm sure."

He hisses in pain when Minseok pushes in, slowly at first, then drives all the way in. When tears trickle out of the corner of his eyes, a part of Luhan is relieved that it's white flashes he sees behind the closed eyelids instead of Jongin leaning into Kyungsoo, while the rest of him shrivels faster than Minseok's thrusts.

 

 

❄❄❄

 

After grabbing his duffel bag from the locker, Jongin feels a hand on his elbow as he pushes the locker door closed. It's Jongdae.

"Hey uh," Jongdae begins tentatively. "Can I talk to you for a sec?" Jongin watches him with concern, noticing the creases between Jongdae's brows that seem to deepen as he speaks.

"Yeah, sure."

Jongin follows Jongdae to the parking lot, where Jongdae climbs into the driver's seat and gestures Jongin to get in on the opposite side. Jongdae turns on the heat and rubs his hands together, huffing into them before the car warms.

"What's up?" Jongin asks, pulling his scarf tighter while raising a hand to the vent.

"This is kind of personal and I hope you don't mind me asking..." Jongdae attempts, casting nervous glances to Jongin, who hesitates at first but nods for him to continue. He can tell where this is going. "Are you and Luhan hyung--I mean," Jongdae amends himself quickly when he senses Jongin still, "I see you and Kyungsoo and it just seems to me..." he trails off, reluctant to fill in the blanks.

"It's over," Jongin says simply, eyes cast down into his hands. "I think."

Jongdae is quiet. "I'm sorry to hear that," he whispers. Jongin shakes his head, a rueful smile forced onto his lips.

"He wanted to leave, so I let him go." It's the first time Jongin ever talks about this with anyone, and the admission sounds so foreign he wonders if it's even true.

Jongdae processes Jongin's words, turning them over in his head as thoughts about Suho seep in.

"Is it really impossible to have both? Work and love really can't coexist?" Jongdae mumbles. Jongin thinks it's a question meant for him but if he had turned and looked closely, he would see the shadow cast over Jongdae's eyes and his forehead marred by a frown.

"I thought they could," Jongin murmurs, voice weighed down by regrets. "I don't know, maybe I was too impatient." To wait until the transfer blows over so it would stop meaning so much. To wait until Luhan checks back in with him emotionally. To grit it out, him and Luhan, together.

"Or maybe you were just scared." Jongdae supplies and Jongin's eyes widen. He turns to Jongdae and sees dread in his eyes. It looks all too familiar.

"Hyung--"

"Sorry, I should get going," Jongdae cuts him off, preventing the younger man from linking the conversation to him. "I'll drop you off." Jongin bites his tongue.

"Alright."

As Jongdae starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, Jongin mulls over what he said. Maybe Jongdae's right. Maybe he was just scared, so he panicked and pushed Luhan away because the fear of losing Luhan was too much.

But he ended up losing him anyway.

Jongin fights the twinge wrenching the muscles in his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. He wishes he was brave enough.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Luhan lies on the bench, naked, long after Minseok’s footsteps have stopped echoing in the locker room. At some point, something – probably a primal instinct to survive – rolls him over and pushes him up, tugging him to the showers, where he scrubs and scrubs until his skin stings and he can no longer distinguish his tears from the water spraying over him.

The following day is still a weekend, the sky bleary with shy trickles of sunshine. Luhan lies in bed for the majority of the day and stares at the ceiling as it replays home movies directed by his memory, watching an older, happier version of himself and Jongin when they were madly, unreservedly in love. They were so picture-perfect, radiant smiles carved into their faces as their fingers and lips came to know only one thing – the crevices and valleys in the other’s body from head to toe.

 

Several hours are spent curled into a corner on the windowsill where Luhan leans his head against the glass. Sometimes he watches children playing and squealing delightfully in the snow and couples walking briskly, pressed into each other for warmth. Other times his eyes cast into the far horizon, in the direction of Fulham where his old flat might be and he thinks the sky looks like it’s about to cry.

At the end of the day, Luhan draws himself a bath. He sinks down below the surface, still and set apart from the things that suffocate him. As air bubbles rise up, he sees Jongin’s smile dancing behind his eyelids and he aches, beyond all measures, because he can’t remember the last time he saw it with his own eyes.

 

 

❄❄❄

 

 

Something is very wrong, Kyungsoo thinks as he stirs the linguine cooking inside the pot. It’s wrong that Jongin asks him to come home with him after practice to make dinner, even if Jongin claims it’s because he’s sick of takeaway’s. It’s wrong that Jongin hasn't spoken of Luhan in weeks, as if the name is a deadly plague that would slice off his tongue upon mentioning. And it’s wrong, horribly wrong, that a copy of the flat keys is in his possession, given to him by Jongin a few days ago.

It hurts Kyungsoo to see Jongin wretched beyond repair, but it kills him to feel that the blood running underneath Jongin’s each touch on his skin actually pulses for Luhan.

The slam of the door jolts Kyungsoo out of his thoughts. He watches with perplexed concern as Jongin kicks his shoes off and stalks right past him, heading straight to the liquor cabinet where he wrenches out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“What happened? Is everything alright?” Kyungsoo asks cautiously as he rests the ladle on the kitchen counter.

Jongin pours the amber liquid into a glass hastily and drains it in one reckless gulp. He sets the glass down with a clunk and squeezes his eyes shut. When he finally opens them and turns to Kyungsoo, there is so much darkness in those eyes that Kyungsoo thinks Jongin must have plummeted to the bottom of the ocean. This time, he’s not sure if he can be of much help.

“He did it to get back at me, I know it.” Jongin whispers, eyes pulled downward again. His face is placid, like he’s entirely divorced from what’s tearing him apart inside.

“What—“

“And Kim Minseok, of all people.” Jongin chuckles bitterly, his eyes far away. “Brilliantly done, Luhan.”

Kyungsoo’s heart sinks. Jongin found out.

There is a rumor going around Fulham that two United players hooked up, Kyungsoo learned just yesterday. He calls it a rumor because he wholeheartedly questions its validity; because there is no way that Luhan would do that to Jongin, not intentionally. The Chelsea players caught wind of it when Luhan’s name was mingled with the rumor, and everyone called bullshit right off the bat. Except for Jongdae, who happened to know more than everyone else and was reluctant to rule out the possibility, as much as he grimaced at it.

No one told Jongin. He heard directly from the source because Minseok just loves to brag at the expense of others’ misery.

Kyungsoo can’t find even one word that may be remotely consoling to Jongin. He ends up watching Jongin refill and empty the glass repeatedly. When the sight finally stabs him in the chest and he tilts forward, Jongin abandons the emptied glass on the counter and abruptly turns away, eyes red and face taut as if a tidal wave of tears is threatening to slash through.

As he watches Jongin’s back retreating into the bedroom, Kyungsoo wonders if his arms around Jongin would have stopped the tears from falling.

 

 

❄❄❄

 

 

"Don't," Luhan hisses as he jerks away, "touch me." He glares into into Minseok’s face, grinning as if he has every right to slide a hand up into Luhan’s shirt, damp from sweat following a training session.

“What happened?” Minseok sneers as he draws his face dangerously close. “You were begging for my cock just last week.” Luhan whips around to face his locker and focuses on putting things back into his duffel bag – he’s going to skip the shower today.

“That was a onetime deal.” Luhan mutters and thinks vehemently, _and it wasn't your fucking cock that I was begging for_ , averting his eyes from Minseok’s unnerving gaze. Ever since that episode, Luhan feels a nauseating twinge in his stomach whenever he catches the demeaning smirk on Minseok’s face, a constant reminder of his rash decisions that haunt him like a begrudged ghost.

 

“Aww,” Minseok feigns a pout and slaps a hand across his chest. “I’m hurt.” He studies Luhan’s face curiously. “What’s the big deal anyway? Aren't you single now? You’re not with the Chelsea goalie anymore,” coaxes Minseok.

Luhan zips up his duffel bag and pulls it out of the locker, then slams the door shut. He turns to face Minseok, eyes frigid like the February snow.

“I’m not single,” says Luhan in an unwavering voice. “So fuck off.”

Luhan stalks out of the locker room before Minseok gets a chance to retort, hurriedly zipping up his jacket in the process. The chilly air feels refreshing and he shakes his head to bat away Minseok’s insinuations. After he slides into the driver’s seat and inserts keys into the ignition, Luhan checks his phone.

There is a missed call from his cousin and a voice mail. Luhan’s heart begins to thud loudly as he listens to the message.

_“Hey bro, I got great news for ya. This is really sudden but I’m finally out! There was apparently a change in burglary law and they let me out on parole early. You’re probably in the middle of training right now so I’ll call again later.”_

The phone drops into Luhan’s lap as his arm goes limp. His cousin, whom Luhan grew up with and treats as his own younger brother, is released after two years in prison for a misdemeanor, one year earlier than the original sentence. His cousin is right, Luhan is thrilled, but this news carries another implication that’s so jarring that Luhan feels like the past six months are whirling past him in a flash. The phone call from his uncle, who is a major shareholder of Manchester United F.C., pleading him for help. Drawing up the pre-contract. Completing the transfer to United. Leaving Chelsea. Jongin breaking up with him. Him moving out.

Luhan clutches his head, eyes shut tight. He wants to rewind everything to six months ago, to a time when he didn’t feel a sledgehammer batter his chest every time he thinks of Jongin, a time when they were each other's joy instead of anguish.

 

 

❄❄❄

Doojoon sighs as Jongin barely saves a shot delivered by Tao. He’s struggling and it’s so obvious because even Tao hesitates to proceed to the next strike, eyeing the goalkeeper worriedly. Doojoon calls a break and jogs over to the goalpost as Jongin drops to his heels, exhaustion marring his face. When he sees Doojoon approach, he pushes up and raises his hands in defeat.

“I know, I know, I need to get my shit together,” says Jongin preemptively as he fights to keep his eyes open. Last night was another handful of hours spent tossing and turning, imagined scenarios of Luhan and Minseok’s tryst bombarding his head relentlessly. Doojoon studies the frayed edges to his features.

“To be honest with you, I miss Luhan too.”

Jongin’s eyes snap wide open. This isn’t the response he was expecting, at all. Then his surprise quickly grows into the ache that sits on his chest at night.

“I know about the rumor,” Doojoon continues, and Jongin shifts his eyes away. “I can’t imagine how much it affects you. But rumor or not, you need to talk things out with him. As far as I’m concerned, that’s probably the only way you can get your shit together.” Doojoon holds Jongin’s eyes for a moment, as if confirming his words have taken seats in Jongin’s head, then turns around to leave.

“I can’t,” Jongin whispers to Doojoon’s back. Doojoon stills, then turns to face Jongin.

“You can,” says Doojoon firmly. “You’re just scared to.”

After a few more drills, Doojoon tells Jongin to go home early. No one questions his decision because they know, more or less, that Jongin needs it. Kyungsoo watches Jongin’s slouched back as he trudges off the pitch and into the locker room. He makes up his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Kyungsoo mentally counts down to the second Doojoon blows the whistle and ends practice, then he hastily showers and nearly breaks into a jog on his way out of the locker room. He’s going to talk to Jongin and he’d rather do it sooner than later. Kyungsoo knows it has to get done, so at first, he approaches it in his head like he would cooking a meal – gather the necessary ingredients, get the pots and pans out on the stove, and then combine the ingredients one by one, stirring and mixing until it’s ready to serve.

 

But when he’s actually standing outside the door to Jongin’s flat and hears nothing but blood pumping in his ears, Kyungsoo isn’t so sure if he even knows the recipe by heart.

 

So he just stands there, keys gripped against clammy palms, struggling, debating with himself. It’s the right thing to do, Kyungsoo tells himself. It’s for the greater good – it’s for Jongin’s good, it’s for Luhan’s good, it’s for the club’s good, even. That’s when he feels his stomach drop and twist unpleasantly, like it’s trying to warn him of something ominous.

_Is it for_ your  _own good?_ , a voice whispers in his head. He tries to ignore it but it just grows louder.

 

The voice finally shuts up when Jongin opens the door and stares at him in confusion.

_Too late to back out now_ , Kyungsoo thinks, his heart growing weak while his mind marches on.

 

“What are you doing just standing there?” asks Jongin with a small frown as he strides across the hallway. “Did you forget the keys?”

 

Kyungsoo watches Jongin set the trash bags down in the corner near the stairwell where they will be collected the next morning. His mind is blank.

 

“Kyungsoo?”

 

Jongin snaps his fingers before Kyungsoo’s face. The concern in his eyes is making it harder for Kyungsoo and he wants to scream.

 

Kyungsoo swallows and doesn’t meet Jongin’s gaze. Maybe it’ll be easier if he doesn’t look into Jongin’s eyes. He grabs Jongin’s hand and takes heavy steps into the flat, tugging a bewildered Jongin behind him. He scoops out his copy of the flat keys from his pocket and places them on the kitchen island, the jingles stifled underneath his palm.

 

“I’m giving you the keys back.”

 

Jongin closes the door behind him once they’re inside the flat. He turns and faces Kyungsoo. The way Kyungsoo’s forehead folds into deep creases is unsettling.

 

“What—why?”

 

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts that are swimming in the back of his head. Then he turns his back to Jongin, facing the windows. The dusk had just fallen and the sky is dyed a warm shade of orange-red.

 

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

 

Kyungsoo studies the shapes of the clouds from the window as he speaks, and his voice comes out steadier than he thought. He presses on before Jongin can reply.

 

“You know what you talk about? You talk about Luhan.”

 

Kyungsoo can feel Jongin stiffen behind him, but he’s not going to stop. He’s gotten this far and he’s going to persevere to the finish line.

 

“Sometimes you start crying in your sleep. You keep mumbling Luhan’s name and I don’t know what to do.”

 

Kyungsoo falls silent. The air stretches thick and wide between him and Jongin, but there is already a divide taking up the space Jongin tried – and failed – to fill. It’s been there since the beginning and Kyungsoo knows that he’s not the one to fill that space.

 

“Sometimes I end up crying too.”

 

Kyungsoo feels something pricking his eyes. He swallows and bites on his bottom lip with a kind of resolve he never had. The clouds are turning a darker color now, a byzantine purple, rich and melancholy. He turns around and faces Jongin, whose eyes are pleading like a penitent culprit bargaining for his sentence to be reduced.

 

“You need to talk to him, Jongin,” says Kyungsoo under his breath as he locks gazes with Jongin.

 

Jongin can’t find his voice to say no. He didn’t know that he talked and cried about Luhan in his sleep, but he had seen the tearstains on his pillowcase, and he is well aware of how he broke out in cold sweats in the middle of the night, Kyungsoo trying to calm him after he woke from a bad dream that he couldn’t remember. Ever since his conversation with Jongdae in the car, the possibility that he needed to sort things out with Luhan began weighing down on him.  A part of him had hoped that having Kyungsoo with him would ease the burden, but it wasn’t going away. Instead, it just grew heavier and heavier each day. Sometimes it choked him silently like a binding collar. Sometimes it rammed into him like an unforeseen freight train. Either way, Jongin was always left in pieces, his whole self becoming more and more irretrievable.

 

Even so, he doesn’t want to talk to Luhan.

 

“I don’t—there’s nothing to talk about.”

 

Jongin turns on his heels and heads to the kitchen. Kyungsoo watches him snap open the cabinet and take out the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, which is nearly empty. He sighs.

 

“Jongin…”

 

“It’s over. He left. There’s nothing I can do.”

 

Jongin’s own words pierce through him harder than anything else and he winces as he gulps, throat closing up in the misery that whisky can’t wash down.

 

“That’s not true. You can talk to him, and ask him to come back.”

 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jongin scoffs, tossing the glass away carelessly, anger bubbling inside his chest. “I’m not gonna  _beg_  him to come back. I’m not a fucking dog. I can function just fin—“

 

“No you fucking can’t, you moron!” Kyungsoo yells suddenly, taking Jongin aback. “You’re barely functioning, open your fucking eyes! You’re miserable and you’re a mess on or off the pitch. You can’t live without him and you know it.”

 

Jongin gapes at Kyungsoo, speechless. He has never seen Kyungsoo infuriated like this, and, in all honesty, neither has Kyungsoo himself. His chest is heaving violently up and down and he doesn’t know why he’s so mad, but he is. He’s mad at Jongin for being so stubborn to admit his own heartache and hurting Kyungsoo in the process. He’s mad at himself for not having done this earlier because the way his tears are pushing behind his eyes is like a flood threatening to overflow a dam – it’s consuming to blink them away and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hang on.

 

Kyungsoo suddenly breaks into strides, stopping right before Jongin. He musters up the last ounce of strength he has.

 

“Have you ever thought about how you’re hurting  _me_  because you can’t deal with your pain properly?”

 

Jongin freezes. Kyungsoo leaves.

 

The flat is colder and emptier than ever after the door shuts behind Kyungsoo, and Jongin is left standing in complete darkness as night falls.

 

Jongin doesn’t bother switching on the lights.


	13. Chapter 13

Luhan tugs his chunky scarf in tighter as he alights from the Chelsea van and treads into the frigid January wind. The club has just arrived outside Cobham for the first match of the year against their old-time rival - Manchester United. It will also be Luhan's first match with United against his former teammates, many of whom he hasn't seen since Jongdae's birthday gathering at Haynes. It is both nostalgic and unsettling, stepping onto the grounds he used to call home, playing football on the same pitch as the people he used to call family, but now as opponents instead of comrades.

But none of this sinks into his stomach deeper and twists it harder than the realization that he will see Jongin again, face to face. This time, they will be wearing different uniforms and facades that have turned them into strangers even to themselves.

 

In an away locker room, Luhan is bestowed the luxury of choosing any random locker. He watches Minseok vigilantly, waiting for him to pick a locker so he could use one that's farthest from it. Minseok gives him an unreadable look and saunters to one next to Hoya, the right winger, taking Luhan by surprise. But he doesn't dwell on it – he has better things to do than mulling over a random act of kindness by Minseok. Luhan chooses a locker in the row over and takes out his away jersey.

When he pulls his jersey over his head and down over his torso, Luhan exhales and looks down, eyes drinking in the blood red of the fabric. He turns around and glances over his shoulders, then peers into the mirror hung on the locker door, gazing at the number embroidered on his back: 77. He frowns slightly as his mind processes how it bears a jarring dissimilarity from his old jersey number, and yet looks bizarrely familiar. He used to be 88. He had chosen it because he believed it could bring him luck, as the number eight in Chinese resembles the word  _prosperity_  in pronunciation. Luck it brought him, but it seems like its magic was confined to within the bounds of the Cobham pitch.

He doesn't want to think about what the number seven* means.

As he kicks the locker door shut, Minseok materializes before him. Alarm flashes in Luhan's eyes and he tenses up reflexively. Minseok eyes him in amusement, but doesn't move closer.

"Chill out. Just came by to say good luck," Minseok drawls casually as he stretches his arms above his head. Then he turns around and walks off, leaving Luhan slightly bewildered.

Luhan frowns at Minseok’s uncharacteristic behaviors – first sparing him the usual harassment, now wishing him luck as he could see Luhan straining every nerve to feign readiness. But god knows he needs it – luck, that is – because he hasn't been this nervous in a very long time.

 

A moment later finds the two teams jogging out onto the pitch in two parallel lines, side by side. Luhan catches Jongin's eyes before they dart away and he feels something more than the wintry air slashing through his skin and into his bones.

He suddenly feels like crying.

He's snapped back into the moment when an arm drops over his shoulders and Luhan jerks his head around. He comes face to face with a grinning Kikwang, the attacking midfielder.

"Ready for your first United match?"

Luhan stops breathing for a second. His head is full of screams but his mouth is void of words. Then he draws a deep breath, relishing the way cold air fills his lungs. 

"Yes," Luhan hears himself say. "Yes, I am." He declares pointedly and loudly, not for fear of Kikwang not hearing him over the whipping wind, but to make himself believe. Maybe if he says it enough times, it will be true.

 

Kris wins the coin toss, so Chelsea takes the kickoff, and the match begins as Sehun swings his leg, launching the ball into United’s territory.

 

Two hours later, the scoreboard still reads 0-0.

It's not that Luhan isn't trying because of his emotional turmoil, which surprisingly has dampened as the match carried on and he focused on the mechanics of the play. It turns out that the new Chelsea player that replaced Luhan, Junsu, is not just good, but  _exceptional_. United doesn't know much about Junsu because he had been scouted in Brazil where he was trained for over a decade. He is aggressive, ruthless, and frighteningly precise, none of which the United players saw coming, including Luhan. They were able to hold their defense in the first half, but for the second half Doojoon changed up the formation and had Junsu switch with Baekhyun as the center midfielder.

At first, United rejoiced at the removal of Junsu from the attacking frontline, but soon realized it was just another, if not better, tactic on Chelsea's end. With Junsu as the gatekeeper, United barely managed to infiltrate the defense, and the few close shots they had were either cleared by Jongdae or saved by Jongin.

Even as the main striker, Luhan has yet to take a direct shot at the net. He keeps passing the ball to either Hoya or back to Kikwang, even when he technically has a shot at a goal. Every time he has the ball dribbling between his feet and spots an open space for the goalmouth, Luhan still finds himself making a pass to someone else, like his legs are making executive play decisions.

Luhan knows he has to reclaim control over his footwork when Seungho, United’s captain, holds him with an austere gaze right after the ball is kicked out of bounds. Luhan sees him sprinting forward and braces himself for a pep talk.

"Luhan," says Seungho under labored breaths. "I don't know what's up with you, but you need to fucking strike, dammit." Luhan averts Seungho's steely eyes guiltily. Seungho trains his gaze on the ref who is gesturing a United player to the throw-in spot.

"I don't want to be hard on you,” Seungho continues. “I know it's tough, playing against your old mates and all." Luhan shifts his weight from one foot to another, head hung low. "But you already made the choice to be on our team. So play like you mean it. Play the way you envisioned yourself when you chose to transfer."

With that, Seungho dashes off to take his position at the midline. Luhan bites down on his bottom lip as his captain's words echo in his ears. He raises his eyes and looks into the distance at the Chelsea goalpost. He takes a deep breath and wills his eyes to keep away from the figure standing inside the goalmouth.

At the whistle, the ball is thrown into the bounds and received by Yixing with a thigh trap. Yixing cross passes the ball over to Sehun, but the pass is intercepted by Minseok who lobs the ball flying across the midline and into Chelsea’s territory. Junsu speeds toward it but Minseok miraculously deflects the ball with an unforessen flick header, launching it in the direction of Hoya. Hoya chest-traps the ball and Luhan catches Kikwang’s eyes as the attacking midfielder sprints down the pitch, deviating from his assigned position. Luhan gets the hint and dashes toward the penalty area just as Hoya carries the ball slightly upfield instead of down as expected. The sudden disarray in United’s formation throws Chelsea offguard, and blue-uniformed players swarm toward the right bounds in panic. Hoya swiftly dodges from Chanyeol as the taller male charges toward him, cutting down the angle from the penalty area. He pauses a beat as if he’s going to go for the goal. Instead, Hoya cuts a perfect through pass straight ahead to Kikwang who’s stationed himself off the far right of Chelsea’s penalty area. Kikwang doesn’t hesitate and immediately executes another through pass to Luhan, who is completely unhindered with too much space around him inside the penalty area. Luhan effortlessly receives the pass and steels his nerves as he swings his leg sideways, eyes turned away from Jongin who seems frozen in place. Jongin feels as if he’s lost control over his body, arms and legs suddenly feeling like lead as he mentally shuts down at the sight of a familiar face juxtaposed with an unfamiliar jersey less than two yards away.

The ball flies into the goalmouth, through Jongin’s belated grasp, and hits the top of the net*.

Instead of leaping in joy for earning United their first goal, Luhan stops dead inside Chelsea’s goalmouth, eyes stinging as they refuse to tear away from a crumpled Jongin on the ground. Jongin looks up at him with an abject vacancy in his eyes and Luhan feels as if the ground has opened up and swallowed him alive. But then he is enveloped in a suffocating group hug by his teammates and a sea of red jerseys swim into his vision in place of Jongin. Luhan finds air in his lungs again as he returns high-five’s like an automaton, and he lets someone steer him back upfield, away from Chelsea’s penalty area.

Luhan doesn’t even know if he’s stronger than he thought he was, or he’s just callous, the blood running through his veins long gone cold. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The number seven in Chinese is a very auspicious number that has several meanings. The one intended here is "togetherness", which is ironic considering Luhan's state of loneliness. 
> 
> Also, a friendly reminder that Luhan's rl jersey number is 77, and Kai's is 88.
> 
> \--
> 
> A diagram of the pitch [here](http://t.co/1lnagrJACe) for reader reference. The goal by United is largely based on an actual goal scored by Chelsea in yesterday's game against Man U. See a video of it [here](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x19ysif_chelsea-3-1-manchester-united-hd_sport) (start at 1:08)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta-ed!! ~~i just wanted to post it and get it over with~~

United holds down their defense before the clock runs out, and Chelsea ends up with a score of nil. The commentators announce United’s victory with a final score of 1-0 and the stadium erupts into an uproar, ecstatic cheers from the side splattered by red and resentful grumbles from the blue ocean. None of this cacophony reaches Jongin’s ears. He stands frozen between the goalposts, weary eyes trained on Luhan who is on the other side of the pitch as he receives congratulatory hugs and pats on the back by his teammates. Something tears him up inside and it has nothing to do with Chelsea’s loss.

 

“Jongin.”

 

The sound of his name penetrates his thoughts without warning, jolting his languid breath to a hitch. Jongdae looks at him worriedly, the way he would with an injured kitten, wanting to comfort but afraid to cause more trauma.

 

“It’s not your fault,” says Jongdae as he takes ginger steps toward Jongin, attributing Jongin’s dazed state to their 1-0 loss. Jongin continues to watch Luhan who strolls off the pitch with others in red jerseys. He wonders if that’s a smile on Luhan’s face, but Luhan is walking farther and farther away and his face begins to blur. Jongin is suddenly gripped by an inexplicable fear.

 

“Jongdae,” whispers Jongin, eyes still on Luhan – rather, the flaming red of his jersey and two digits Jongin has never seen on him before. “I gotta go.”

 

Jongdae doesn’t need to ask where he’s going, but he pulls Jongin back before the goalkeeper takes off in a jog.

 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Jongdae asks. Then it dawns on Jongin – he doesn’t actually know Luhan’s address. He didn’t ask Luhan for it when he moved out, already feeling intrusive at the time, as if the move was Luhan’s way of setting a divider between them, and Jongin wasn’t supposed to even try to climb over and trespass to the other side.

Jongin’s blank look tells Jongdae plenty.

 

“Come on,” Jongdae grabs Jongin by the forearm and tugs him forward in the direction of the locker room complex.

 

“Where—“ Jongin abandons his question when Jongdae breaks into a jog and Jongin is allowed no room to think if he wants to keep up. They bust open the building door and sprint down the hallway until they reach a door with a “STAFF ONLY” sign. Panting slightly, Jongin looks to Jongdae in utter confusion. Jongdae hesitates before turning the knob and walking in.

 

“Jongdae, what are you—Jongin?” Suho looks up from his desk, the confusion in his eyes quickly shoved away by palpable panic. He hurriedly gets on his feet and looks between Jongin and Jongdae, then he tells Jongdae to close and lock the door with a sigh.

 

“What’s going on?” Suho asks as he settles back into his chair, stern eyes searching the two faces before they train on Jongdae.

 

“Luhan hyung’s address… you have it, right?” Jongdae speaks after a moment of strained silence, holding Suho’s gaze as courageously as he can. The steel in Suho’s eyes softens as he grasps the situation at hand, and he glances over at Jongin who still looks as uncertain as he first walked into the room.

 

“Yeah,” replies Suho. “I have it.” He pulls open a drawer under his desk before Jongin even asks. He draws out a file and flips through the papers stacked inside it. He scribbles something on a piece of scrap paper lying within an arm’s reach.

 

“Here,” Suho hands the paper to Jongin, gesturing for him to take it. Jongin stares at Suho’s hand blankly before finally snapping out of it and snatching the note. He thanks Suho, then Jongdae, profusely. Suho calls to Jongin before he bolts out the door.

 

“Keep it to yourself,” says Suho with a good-natured wink. “I’m putting my job at risk here.”

 

“I will,” Jongin replies with a grateful smile. Then he takes off with a wave of the hand.

 

Suho fixes his eyes on Jongdae as soon as the door snaps closed behind Jongin.

 

“What were you thinking bringing him in here?” Suho says, an underlying sigh treading in his voice. Jongdae lowers his eyes in remorse.

 

“I just wanted to help,” Jongdae whispers.

 

“I know.” Suho exhales. He walks up to Jongdae and draws him into a hug, threading fingers through his hair.

 

“You did the right thing. It was stupid, but you did good.”

 

 

Jongin forgoes the shower and arbitrarily throws on a sweatshirt and sweatpants before shrugging on his jacket, then runs out of the locker room and into the parking lot, ignoring calls behind him with a noncommittal wave. He leaps into his car and punches into the GPS the address written down by Suho. Above him the clouds were growing thicker and thicker, coalescing and morphing into a vast sheet of grayness, threantening of rain.

 

The drive to Carrington is typically three hours, but Jongin gets off the freeway in just under two, having sped at 80 mph almost the entire way. Thanks to the GPS, he easily locates Luhan’s flat in a few minutes, and as if by a streak of luck, he finds a parking spot less than a block away.

 

But when he arrives at the front step to the building his feet feel weighted and refuse to budge. He curls his hands into fists and opens them several times; mustering the courage to walk up to the double doors and press the intercom.

 

It starts to rain. Drizzles at first, then the raindrops become larger, heavier, beating down on Jongin relentlessly until he is soaked to the bones.

 

Several tenants pass by him as they enter or exit the building. They all peer at him strangely. Some throw in a pitiful glance and others squint at him suspiciously before hurrying on their way. Jongin begins to shiver uncontrollably as night drags on and the temperature drops, and the air he exhales becomes saturated in white as he rubs at his arms.

 

“Not going in?”

 

A soft-spoken voice rings up next to Jongin and he twists his head. A silver-haired lady is watching him, head tilted under an umbrella that dwarfs her small frame. She looks the age of his grandmother.

 

“Uh,” Jongin mumbles while wiping water off his cheeks and offering a strained smile. The old lady peers at him curiously, then tugs him by the drenched sleeve.

 

“You must be here to visit a friend? I haven’t seen you before,” says the elderly woman.

 

Jongin opens and closes his mouth several times as he lets her pull him toward the entrance. Jongin decides that some things are better left unsaid. Maybe she’ll take silence as an admission. He wonders why she concluded so easily that he was here to visit someone instead of just some random creeper standing outside the building.

 

The old lady closes her umbrella once they’re under the eaves, and Jongin stands behind her awkwardly with water dripping from his clothes onto the doorstep. He’s about to explain his presence when she punches in the keycode and the door buzzes open.

 

“Come on,” she gestures for Jongin to enter, encouraging when she sees him hesitate. “Or you’re going to catch a cold.”

 

Jongin drags his legs inside reluctantly, leaving the chilly rain behind the closed doors.

 

“Thank you, but—“

 

“Are you Luhan’s friend?” The old lady cuts him off again, and Jongin widens his eyes in surprise. That’s all it takes for her to understand, and she smiles at him knowingly. “He’s my neighbor. We chat sometimes.” Jongin gapes at her, thoughts racing through his head and heart pounding against his chest.

 

“Come on,” she urges him again, this time to the lift. Once inside the lift, she presses 8 and Jongin steps off to the side, worrying his lips and kneading the frayed edges of his sweatshirt. She begins to hum some folk song, a smile tucked into the corner of her lips. Jongin watches the number on the digital panel flash to 3. He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth.

 

“Um, he’s… mentioned me before?” asks Jongin in a small voice. 

 

“Oh yes,” the old lady replies with a smile. She turns and casts a meaningful glance at Jongin. “Not your name, of course. But whenever I tried to set him up with my granddaughter, he would say he already had someone in mind.” She pauses, her smile growing wider in reminiscence. “Someone tall, dark, and handsome, as he put it.” She gazes at Jongin.

 

“I thought it might be you.”

 

Jongin blushes. The lift dings and the doors open. Jongin steps onto the floor with uncertainty, legs shaky. He follows the old lady with a respectful distance between them. He considers retracing his steps to the lift, but he doesn’t have the heart to turn his back on an amicable old lady.

 

Especially not when she stops before a door and tilts her head, looking at Jongin expectantly.

 

“Here we are!” she announces, smiling. Jongin gulps, fists clenching again, this time against clammy palms. He watches her press the door bell and fights the urge to run away. He hears the door unlock and feels his stomach twist.

 

“Mrs. Wright? How can I—“

 

The rest of his sentence dies inside Luhan’s mouth when his eyes flit to Jongin who stands next to the old lady, looking like a lost teenager caught in the rain with eyes pleading for a warm meal and a change of clothes.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up, then.” The old lady smiles at them both, then turns around and shuffles inside her own flat.

 

Jongin doesn’t move an inch, nor does he ask to be let in. He expects Luhan to draw him into a welcoming hug, but a larger part of him expects Luhan to lash out at him, tell him to leave, push him away, then slam the door in his face. But he makes himself stand still and just wait. He’s done his part of driving all the way here and actually coming to Luhan’s door. Now the ball is in Luhan’s court, and Jongin can only hope while chewing on his bottom lip, feeling almost dizzy from holding his breath.

 

Luhan stares at Jongin, dragging his eyes from the matted hair down to the cuffs of jacket sleeves curled into fists, dripping water on his doormat. He opens his mouth and Jongin’s heart shoots up to his throat, but Luhan just closes it, clamping his lips.

 

Just as Jongin is about to apologize for the unexpected visit, Luhan reaches out and grabs him by the forearm. It’s so sudden that Jongin doesn’t even have time to gasp, then somehow, before he knows it, he’s tugged inside and the door is shut behind him. Luhan leaves to go somewhere, but Jongin is still too frazzled to ask, to speak even.

 

It’s his first time inside Luhan’s flat. The heat is the first thing he notices, the warmth enveloping him like a blanket and he welcomes the way his fingertips thaw. Then his eyes wander and take in the studio. A flat-screen TV faces a twin-sized bed, which takes up most of the space in the living room. A bookcase and a closet occupy the remaining corners by the curtains. Standing by the kitchenette is a small dining table that also looks to be a makeshift desk, littered with bills and letters strewn over the surface, a closed laptop surrounded by unwashed bowls and mugs.

 

Jongin gulps again, anxiety coiling inside his chest. Everything looks so foreign, so… unlike Luhan. But maybe that’s just because he’s not used to seeing Luhan settled in a place where Jongin’s scent doesn’t linger.

 

Footsteps snap Jongin out of his thoughts, and Luhan re-emerges before him with towels in his hands. Luhan drapes a large towel around Jongin’s shoulders, and Jongin can’t help but notice the space between them, as if Jongin is a stray dog that Luhan pities but is afraid to touch for fear of rabies. But Jongin pulls the towel tight around him and gratefully accepts the smaller towel for his hair, eyes trying to catch Luhan’s all the while. Luhan doesn’t meet his gaze. He turns and strides away.

 

“T-thanks,” Jongin croaks to Luhan’s back. Luhan pauses, then resumes his steps to the kitchenette. Jongin hears some clanking and the stove being turned on. He takes unsure steps forward and peers into the kitchenette. Luhan is boiling water.

 

A few more minutes of silence tick by, Jongin standing stiffly by the island, watching Luhan’s back as Luhan makes tea. Jongin is slightly comforted when he sees that the teabag Luhan drops into the mug is Earl Grey. Luhan doesn’t drink Earl Grey, but Jongin does.

 

When the tea is done, Luhan pushes the mug to Jongin across the island counter, eyes cast downward. Jongin’s chest clenches again, tighter this time, seeing how Luhan refuses to look at him, to speak to him. The way he’s acting now is no different than a sympathetic gesture for someone who needs a temporary shelter from rain. What Jongin needs isn’t towels or a mug of hot tea, but it seems like that’s all Luhan can – is willing to – give.

 

Jongin begins to doubt his decision to come here, the speech he’s prepared and rehearsed a dozen times on the way here wiped clean from his head. It no longer seems necessary, anyway. A wave of despair engulfs and drowns him and his hands begin to shake on his lap. He shuts his eyes and doesn’t reach for the mug.

 

“I’m sorry for coming here,” Jongin says in a voice trembling so much it sounds like someone else’s. “I know you don’t wanna see me and I’m sorry for coming without calling or anything, but I just—“ he takes a sharp breath and blinks rapidly, trying not to cry because he can’t lose the last of his dignity.

 

“I just…” _I just want you back_. “I just wanted to apologize. For being an impatient dick and giving up on us. That’s all.”

 

Jongin pushes up before he even finishes and shrugs off the towels, scrambling for the door before tears spill out of his eyes. But before his hand closes around the door knob, he is spun around and pinned to the door by his shoulders. Luhan holds his eyes for the first time since he stepped into the flat.

 

“That’s all? You came all the way here to say you’re sorry?”

 

Something in Luhan’s eyes sparks frustration in Jongin and he grabs Luhan by the collar and shoves him backward into the edge of the dining table.

 

“Actually, you know what, on second thought, no, that’s not all,” Jongin grates out, the tears in his eyes drying faster than he could wish for. “I came to ask you to come back, is that you wanted to hear? But what does it matter now since you wouldn’t even look me in the eye? Did you have to make me say it? That I can’t get over you, that I still love you? Fine, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you what you wanna hear.”

 

Tears begin to find their way back to Jongin’s eyes and this time, he doesn’t care. He lets them fall down his cheeks and into Luhan’s shirt as he grips harder and forgoes any filtering of his words.

 

“I’m a fucking mess. I can’t sleep because I keep getting nightmares. I can’t play; my career is at an all time low. Even Kyungsoo left me – isn’t that pathetic,” he chuckles at how acrid the confession tastes. “I’m fucking losing it because you’re here, holed up in your nice little flat without me in it but I can’t move on no matter how hard I try. You know why? ‘Cause you’re in my blood, you fuck.”

 

Jongin presses his mouth against Luhan’s so tight it’s like he’s trying to mold their lips into one. Luhan pushes him away and glares at him.

 

“You’re such an asshole,” Luhan says before yanking Jongin close and smashing their lips together again, his tongue pushing inside Jongin’s mouth like an army demolishing their enemy’s barricades. Jongin knocks Luhan down with his body, hands pushing papers off the table before he lifts Luhan up by the thighs and presses on top of him. Something drops on the floor and shatters, but neither of them pays the noise any attention. Luhan pulls back, panting as he stares into Jongin’s eyes.

 

“You know you could’ve saved us both weeks of hell if you'd said so earlier.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Luhan laughs, but the laughter turns into moans against Jongin’s mouth, wet and hot and unrelenting. It’s been too long and they claw at each other like hungry wolves ripping their preys apart, a barbaric urgency coursing through their veins. Luhan doesn’t care how the tabletop is cold against his bare back, and Jongin doesn’t care how hard it is to peel off his damp clothes. They don’t even think of moving to the bed which is only a few feet away and much more comfortable, as if going anywhere else would take the heat of the moment away.

 

They do move to the bed eventually, at Luhan’s insistence for fear of his laptop getting pushed off the table and crashing on the floor. But by then, the heat between them is so palpable it wouldn’t matter where they are, as long as they are together, with limbs entangled and skin pressed onto skin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the confrontation scene inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2ae5qRWPCg)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~i probably _should_ write out the sex at the end but i've been sworn into nunnery so no more smut for me~~


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited ~~but unbeta-ed.~~ beta'ed and revised as of 140215.
> 
> Please make sure to read the A/N at the end.

Jongin stirs as sunshine peeks through the cracks of the curtains. He feels like he's underwater and he can hardly breathe through his nose. He twists his head and looks down. Luhan cracks open an eye at the intruding sunlight and frowns in that familiar cute way of his. Jongin smiles.

 

"G'morning," Jongin says in a raspy voice and ruffles Luhan's hair. Luhan groans and turns over.

 

"I'm so sore I can barely feel my ass."

 

Jongin laughs. His heart swells at the way Luhan mumbles when he gripes; he's missed it an awful lot.

 

"Should I say I'm sorry?"

 

Jongin expects the quip to earn him a glower, but Luhan's eyes soften.

 

"You said it enough times last night." Luhan scoots up and kisses Jongin’s forehead. He frowns and shifts a hand beneath Jongin’s bangs. “You feel a little warm. I think you have a fever,” Luhan says with a half-pout, as if reproaching a child who’s knocked over a vase by accident.

 

“I’m fine.” Jongin slides Luhan’s hand off his forehead and interweaves their fingers instead.

 

“You really should’ve just come inside the building instead of standing out in the rain like an idiot.”

 

Jongin falls silent. He debates internally whether there is still a need to talk, the reason why he ended up at Luhan’s flat in the first place. Insecurity prickles him to seek some sort of affirmation.

 

"So..." Jongin begins tentatively. "Does this mean we're back to the way things were?"

 

"No."

 

Jongin's face falls and his arms around Luhan stiffen.

 

"But we can start over."

 

Luhan snuggles close and Jongin knows he has his affirmation.

 

"You're coming home with me then." Jongin declares. Luhan groans.

 

"But I hate moving."

 

Jongin rolls his eyes. "I'll help you."

 

"I hate driving long distance, too."

 

"I'll drive, then."

 

"I like this bed though. The mattress has just the right amount of bounciness."

 

"I hate it. It's too small. Half of my ass is hanging off the bed right now, just FYI."

 

Luhan laughs, and the way his body shakes sends pleasant tingles through Jongin.

 

"Our bed is much comfier, too," Jongin adds in a mumble.

 

"Our bed," Luhan repeats. "I like the sound of that."

 

Jongin's smile stretches far and wide across his face. He drops a kiss on Luhan's bed-hair.

 

"You're still driving though, right?"

 

Jongin rolls his eyes again as he concedes, but he's still smiling. As he will be for quite a while.

 

\--

 

By the time Chelsea resumes training after the loss to United, the icy sheet over the pitch has more or less thawed with the arrival of February.

 

The sound of whistle cuts through the cool air at Cobham and Doojoon calls the end of practice. He waves for Jongin to come forth with a warm smile.

 

"Good work today," Doojoon gives two pats on Jongin's back. Jongin grins and says thanks. "I take it you've sorted out... whatever you needed to sort out."

 

"Yeah," Jongin replies, scratching his head sheepishly.

 

"I'm glad," Doojoon says and squeezes Jongin's shoulder before tapping him on the ass as a dismissal.

 

 

On the way to the locker room, Kris falls in step with Jongin. Jongin can feel inquisitive eyes on him. He turns to Kris, braced for a comment similar to Doojoon's, but Kris's eyes are unusually dark.

 

"You look happy," Kris says conclusively, eyes searching Jongin's face. Jongin squirms. "Everything worked out with Luhan?" Jongin nods, unsure if he should say more.

 

"Hmm." Kris drags his eyes away from Jongin and trains them straight ahead. Baekhyun and Jongdae are chattering before them, Baekhyun throwing his hands about animatedly and Jongdae cackles at something he says. Kris nods pensively. Jongin tilts his head, expecting something else from his captain.

 

"That's good," Kris says, then tosses Jongin a glance. "Good for you, Jongin." He pats Jongin on the shoulder, but the typical meaning of that gesture feels too light to Jongin. "I'm proud of ya." Then Kris breaks into long strides and catches up with Jongdae, slinging a long arm around the shorter man.

 

Jongin is perplexed, but he shrugs it off as he enters the locker room and approaches his locker. Suho is standing on top of a bench between the middle two rows of lockers, hands on his hips and looking comically out of place in his pressed suits.

 

"Guys, please gather around," Suho declares over the chitchats and clanging of locker doors. "I have a few announcements to make."

 

Yixing, Minho, Sehun, and Chanyeol happen to have their lockers within those two rows, so they simply put away their training kits and settle near Suho's feet on top of the bench. Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Kris, whose lockers are in the row over, are the next ones to join along with a fading quibble. Tao and Kyungsoo come tumbling in last with half of their shirts tugged on. Suho squints at them suspiciously, but coughs and proceeds.

 

"I have good news and bad news," Suho begins.

 

"Bad news first," Baekhyun speaks up immediately. A few others nod along.

 

"Well, it's not necessarily bad news if you really think about it..." Suho stalls, earning several scoffs and grumbles.

 

"Just spill it, hyung," Chanyeol says. "I wanna go shower."

 

Suho narrows his eyes and Jongdae elbows him in the ribs. Chanyeol yelps.

 

"What? I'm just being honest. I know y’all are thinking about it."

 

Suho ignores him and clears his throat again.

 

"Anyway. The bad news is..." Suho surveys the group and skips Jongdae. He decides to fix his eyes on the top of Yixing's locker, right over where Tao's arm rests on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

 

"I've resigned as Chelsea's manager."

 

The room is quiet. Then pandemonium erupts.

 

"But WHY??"

"Hyung did you just say-"

"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE US"

"Did he just say-"

"This is a joke right? Someone tell me this is a fucking joke."

 

Shouts and cries and questions overlap one another until one gigantic bubble of confusion encloses the group. Suho looks strangely calm for breaking a shit piece of news to a club he's overseen for closer four years, many of the players closer than his own brothers.

 

"Calm down, guys," Suho attempts with a strained shout, pushing his arms down as if to subdue the growing commotion. "I'm not finished yet!"

 

No one hears him. Some are shocked into daze, some are barking angrily at him and sparing him no chance to respond, and some have their head hung low as they begin to walk away in disappointment. Then Suho's eyes land on Jongdae's ashen face, tears circling in his incredulous eyes. Suho scrunches his forehead in determination and yells.

 

"I'M DATING JONGDAE"

 

The noises die instantly and all 20 pairs of widened eyes snap to Suho, who draws his lips into a tight line, bouncing on his feet nervously. Then the attention is on Jongdae. Jongdae gulps, eyes darting around as if he's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

"You're sleeping with SUHO HYUNG??" Baekhyun exclaims as if he's just discovered a new continent. Jongdae cringes and fights the urge to shove himself into the locker behind him.

 

"This is like... incest," Sehun pipes up with a deadpan face. Suho shoots him a murderous glare which he catches. "'Cause you're both like my real hyungs and..." Sehun explains, then gives up as the mental imagery makes him shudder.

 

"I have to say this isn't really news," says Kris as he leans back on the locker behind him, arms thrown casually across his chest. Jongdae hints him to shut up with earnest eyes but Kris pointedly refuses to meet his gaze.

 

"What do you mean?" Suho asks, taken aback. "You knew?"

 

"Well." Kris shrugs, a smirk hidden in an annoying upturn of lips. Suho hauls his hands over his face.

 

Suho is saved from momentary embarrassment when his cell phone in the pants pocket begins vibrating. He pulls it out and frowns at the screen. He steps off from the bench and scampers into a corner to answer the phone, a finger pressed to his ear while the group breaks into renewed hubbub, mostly surrounding Jongdae. But Jongdae breaks away, eyes watchful on Suho. He walks toward Suho as he hangs up.

 

"Is everything okay?"

 

There are other, more pressing questions on the tip of his tongue but Jongdae decides to save them for later. The deep creases on Suho's forehead are more disconcerting than the breaking news (and the way he broke them) just now.

 

Suho raises his eyes to Jongdae and shakes his head. Jongdae opens his mouth when Suho breaks into strides forward and calls Jongin's name. He squeezes Jongin's shoulders and looks into his eyes.

 

"Luhan's in the hospital."

 

 

 

 

Jongin can't remember the last time he stepped onto hospital grounds. Staff in scrubs and patients on stretchers whirring past white walls gives the illusion that he's in a whole different dimension, and the ubiquitous smell of disinfectant makes his stomach churn. But his eyes hyper-focus on the front desk the instant he enters the building, and his ears tune into the room number mumbled by the receptionist as Suho's calls behind him fade into white noise.

 

He forgoes the lift because it takes a few seconds too long to look for the sign pointing to it, even though he ends up climbing six flights of stairs, Suho (who is not as in shape) barely keeping up behind him. He's already wasted seconds, maybe even minutes, by having his phone stowed in the locker and failing to hear it ring when the paramedics tried him first.

 

When the door to Luhan's room busts open, Jongin is panting, followed by Suho who is a wreckage of ragged breaths. Jongin's wide eyes search for Luhan amidst the four hospital beds.

 

"Luhan!" Jongin runs so fast to the bed he almost collides with the railing. "What happened?"

 

Luhan props himself up on the elbows, watching in slight amusement as Jongin pats him down from head to toe, oblivious to his leg suspended in a cast, while firing off a string of redundant questions. Suho casts Luhan a sympathetic look and rolls up the incline of the bed.

 

"I just fractured my shin."

 

" _Just_?" Jongin cries. "It's a _fracture_ , not a sprain!"

 

"Jongin, calm down," says Suho as he tries to steady Jongin's shaking shoulders and pushes him down into a chair by the bedside. Luhan watches Jongin huff and purse his lips. He sighs.

 

"It's a common injury, it's not a big-"

 

"How did it happen?" Jongin cuts him off as he leans forward and perches his arms on the edge of the bed. "You never get major injuries like this," he frowns and rubs circles into Luhan's palm.

 

Luhan is quiet. Then he turns to Suho and asks him to get Jongin some tea. Suho nods and leaves the room.

 

"Someone sabotaged me," Luhan reveals in a small voice.

 

"What? Who the fuck would do that?"

 

Luhan falls silent again. Something clicks in Jongin's head.

 

"It's Kim Minseok, isn't it."

 

Jongin suddenly gets on his feet and his eyes take on an ominous shade.

 

"Jongin, don't." Luhan tugs on Jongin's hand, keeping him in place. Jongin locks gazes with him and hurt drifts across his face.

 

"Why are you protecting him? Did you really-"

 

"No, of course not!" Luhan nearly shouts. He rakes fingers through his hair and exhales. "That was a mistake, you know that." A pause. "I can't believe you doubted me."

 

Jongin's eyes soften and he slumps back into the chair.

 

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his hands, then up to meet Luhan's eyes. "I just want to kill him in five different ways, that's all."

 

Luhan huffs a humoring laugh. "I know, but there's no need. He's already been suspended for the season."

 

The information makes Jongin's shoulders slacken a little, but he still looks unappeased. Luhan squeezes his forearm in reassurance. Jongin pouts and gets up, leans over the bed and pulls Luhan into a tight hug.

 

"He'd still look better under the tires of my car," Jongin mumbles next to Luhan's ear. Luhan hums with a smile and rests his head on Jongin's shoulder. It's a nice, warm place to put behind his argument with Minseok leading up to the injury, and Luhan hopes Jongin doesn't ask, because he's apt to get riled up again. Because Luhan shouldn’t have to get hurt to defend their relationship.

 

"Please save the PDA for another time, you two." A familiar baritone rings up behind them. Jongin turns around and sees a grinning Chanyeol, with the rest of Chelsea filing into the room one by one.

 

"Yeah, seriously. Think of the children," Baekhyun seconds with a deadpan face.

 

"What children?" Jongin retorts, an arm across Luhan's shoulders as he shifts to squeeze in next to him.

 

"Sehun and Tao," Chanyeol supplies confidently.

 

"Sehun yes, but Tao..." Kris interjects and shoots Tao a knowing look. "Pretty sure you're wrong on that account."

 

Tao sputters a defense that no one hears, and Kyungsoo blushes.

 

"Jongdae, where's your _boyfriend_?" Baekhyun teases, enunciating the last word. Luhan demands an explanation but everyone is preoccupied with a guffaw, while Jongdae is too busy restraining himself from cooling his heated cheeks.

 

A nurse walks in and does a double take at the sudden overpopulation in the room. She reprimands the group and shoos them out the door. When she ignores the exaggerated pout on Jongin's face, Jongin turns and showcases it to Luhan instead. Luhan just laughs and draws Jongin into a quick hug before repeating the nurse's instructions. Only then does Jongin drag his body off the bed and shuffle toward the door.

 

"Kyungsoo," Luhan calls as his former teammate is about to step out. Kyungsoo whips around in surprise, almost bumping into Jongin. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

 

Kyungsoo looks at Luhan, then at Jongin before tearing his eyes away. Jongin stops in his tracks, looking just as confused and uncomfortable.

 

"Go on, Jongin," Luhan says with a complementary gesture. The smile on Luhan's face is reassuring, so Jongin steps outside as Kyungsoo moves inside, and closes the door behind him.

 

Kyungsoo hesitates for a while, then finally treads to Luhan's bedside.

 

"Why do you look so scared?" Luhan says, peering into Kyungsoo's face curiously. Kyungsoo lets out a stiff laugh, then looks down at his shoes.

 

"I'm sorry, Luhan hyung."

 

Luhan is quiet. Kyungsoo feels crushed by the thickening air between them and he wishes Luhan would say something. _Anything_.

 

"Don't be," says Luhan finally. Kyungsoo looks up to meet Luhan's smile. "I should thank you, actually." Kyungsoo widens his eyes.

 

"Thanks for being there for Jongin when I couldn't... when I wasn't."

 

Kyungsoo swallows hard. He thinks he'd rather have Luhan blame him because his guilt is chewing his insides now instead of pricking.

 

"Don't blame yourself, Kyungsoo," Luhan continues as he notices pained regret fleet across Kyungsoo's face. "It's easy to make mistakes when you love someone." Luhan offers Kyungsoo an empathetic smile. Kyungsoo receives it wholeheartedly.

 

"I'm actually... Jongin is…" Kyungsoo fumbles over his words. Luhan grins.

 

"Tao, eh?"

 

Kyungsoo chuckles sheepishly, face growing warm under Luhan's gaze. Luhan laughs.

 

"He's a good kid." Luhan nods at Kyungsoo, an approving smile tugging his lips. Kyungsoo smiles back and feels fresh air fill his lungs again.

 

The door to the room opens and in walks Suho, who is thrown into bewilderment when he sees it's Kyungsoo by Luhan's bedside instead of Jongin.

 

"Did a Freaky Friday happen while I was gone?" Suho says as he looks between Luhan and Kyungsoo, a Styrofoam cup blowing steam in his hand. They break into a laugh that holds a meaning other than the lameness of the joke. Suho is still confused as Kyungsoo excuses himself.

 

"The guys came by earlier," Luhan explains when Suho sits down and sets the cup on the bedside table. "I just wanted a little chat with Kyungsoo." Suho raises an eyebrow. Luhan snorts. "Everything's cool, in case you're wondering."

 

"I'm glad to hear that," says Suho, fingers sneaking up to the cup again. He takes a sip absentmindedly. Luhan squints at him.

 

"So what's this whole thing with Jongdae, hm?"

 

Suho almost chokes on his tea. He sets the cup on the bedside table and clears his throat a few times.

 

"Uh."

 

Luhan cocks an eyebrow. Suho offers an awkward smile in exchange.

 

"I'm bedridden, so I have all day." Luhan crosses his arms and leans back into the bed. Suho sighs.

 

"Alright, alright." Suho looks around the room and behind his shoulders, as if the other three patients would care to eavesdrop when they have better things to tend to - staying awake while on tranquilizers, for example.

 

"Jongdae and I are-"

 

"Oh I knew about that," Luhan says nonchalantly. Suho mentally burrows a hole in the ground and lies in it face down. "I wanted to know why you decided to tell everyone now."

 

"As opposed to..."

 

"As opposed to earlier." Luhan looks at Suho as if he just asked him what two plus two was. Suho shoots him a blank look.

 

"Are you kidding? Imagine the toll it would take on his career!" Suho hisses, then softens his voice, "Dating the manager of your team is publicity suicide."

 

Luhan notes the overcast in Suho's eyes. He pulls his lips into a line, masking a sigh.

 

"Is that why you took the offer from Arsenal?"

 

Suho raises his eyes, large as saucers. The most he's told the Chelsea players is that he had quit.

 

"I have my sources," says Luhan matter-of-factly.

 

"I couldn't do what you did, Luhan," Suho confesses, then lowers his voice to a mere whisper. "I'm not as brave as you are."

 

Luhan falls silent for a long while. He turns his eyes to the windows. Outside sprawls an immense stretch of hospital-owned grass field, where a father in immaculate suits is pushing his child in a wheelchair, spinning them both round and round. Luhan can vaguely make out the carefree smile on their faces.

 

"Truthfully," Luhan says, watching how the father laughs so easily. "You're the brave one."

 

Suho follows Luhan's line of sight, then pats him on the forearm. They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the sun dip behind the father and daughter. And they smile, because while they can't have the cake and eat it too, they can at least smear the frosting on the one they love.

 

The fun that comes with that, they realize now, is probably better than devouring the cake by themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 8 months, The Goalkeeper has come to an end. It may not be the perfect ending, but I felt it was time to bring this story to a close. 
> 
> I sincerely apologize re: the suchen arc which is way underdeveloped. They should really have their own arc, but to do that would mean rewriting TGK and taking out a good chunk, which I'm reluctant to do. 
> 
> There is a lot of implicit information, and I hope everyone was able to extract that using their own imagination. If you were, I've done my job.
> 
> You might have noticed a change in style for the last few chapters. This is mainly because I wanted to supply an unfinished puzzle and allow readers the freedom to put the pieces together. But in case you wanted an explicit explanation, here it is:
> 
> Luhan chose career. At first, anyway. Jongin and Luhan were both blindsided by the fear of uncertainty that came with change, and the strain in their relationship dragged on because both were too stubborn, and still paralyzed by fear. When Jongin went to find Luhan, he didn't even need to say a word - Luhan would have taken him back on the account that he himself had mistakenly and stupidly allowed the transfer to alter his life as much as it did (this realization came after his cousin's voicemail). At some point before the hospital scene, Luhan and Jongin had a dialogue in which Luhan explained the catalyst of his decision to transfer. They laughed about it, realizing that a career change didn't have to drive the rest of a person's life off course.
> 
> I struggled a lot with Suho's decision. Throughout the story, I had no idea what he was going to do. Unintentionally, suchen ended up complementing kailu in that Suho chose love over career (but really, being Arsenal's manager is just as prestigious). Suho's struggle and also the tension in his relationship with Jongdae could - should - have been expanded, but you could imagine it similar to kailu, just not as dramatic and hurtful.
> 
> I'm sorry to all Xiumin stans that I made him out to be a bad guy. I toyed with the idea of a different closure between him and Luhan, but nothing would ever end peacefully when it came to Minseok the smug, self-serving jerk. I decided to run his character fully and hence the sabotage. Minseok was one of those guys who would destroy whom he couldn't have.
> 
> The taosoo was entirely written on a whim. I wanted Kyungsoo to be happy. He was a good guy, and he deserved someone who could reciprocate. 
> 
> There was no explicit closure between Jongin and Kyungsoo because the person that Kyungsoo really needed closure with was Luhan. Jongin felt that he owed Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo felt that he owed Luhan. Obtaining affirmation from Luhan (though not in the way he expected) concerned Kyungsoo a lot more than an apology from Jongin, which would have been like filing a police report for a burglary when you forgot to lock the doors.
> 
> If you have further queries, feel free to drop a comment or send me a message on ask.fm. Thank you all for reading!


End file.
